Oh Carp! Oh Crap! I've heard it both ways
by whirlgirl
Summary: Shawn knows he's going to have to apologise to Gus and Lassie later – well, maybe not Lassie. Lassie's letting his vendetta get inbetween him and the case at hand. Next time, if he has to steal someone's gun, he'll pilfer one off of McNab. That guy is way too nice for his own good. Tag to Santabarbaratown therefore Major Spoilers for Santabarbaratown
1. He's a Jerryatric man

Shawn felt his stomach sink and his heart stop as he stared at the folder Buzz was angling towards him. In that one split second, his brain kicked into overdrive and he raced down the hallway without a word. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Buzz's voice calling out to him but he ignored it and pushed open the large Spanish-styled doors that led outside.

In his rush outside, he ran full speed into Detective Lassiter. Papers spewed out of the folder he was holding and the coffee he was drinking left a sizeable stain on his crisp blue shirt. Thankfully, he managed to grab the railing to steady himself at the last possible second.

"Spencer!" the angry man yelled as the pseudo psychic tore through the station's parking lot.

Shawn couldn't describe how glad he was when he saw Gus leaning against the Blueberry and chatting up the Department's newest forensic girl – glad because of the car, not the sugar-binge break. He'd probably be happy for his best bud later but right now he just needed the car.

Gus thumbed his nose and gave his business card to the girl just as Shawn skidded to a stop in front of him. "Keys," Shawn gasped out.

His friend dangled the keys in front of him and pulled them away when Shawn tried to grab them, "You must be out of your damn mind if you think I'm going to let you drive…"

"Give me the freaking keys already, Burton!"

Shawn's high-pitched hysterical tone and the use of Gus' full name made his partner flinch. It was in this moment that he took advantage of Gus' surprise – he grabbed the keys and shoved him aside. No sooner had he entered the car, he had pulled off the curb at a breakneck speed.

In the rearview mirror, Shawn spotted a very pissed looking Lassiter approaching a distressed Guster. A pang of guilt reminded him that he would have to apologise later. His friend was probably stuttering out his confusion right now as he answered Lassie's questions. One of which, no doubt, will be about his missing gun.

It was a spontaneous decision on Shawn's part to grab the gun when he had accidentally ran into Lassiter. Some part of him knew that he might be overreacting right now… Henry Spencer could be enjoying his lunch right now. He might even be walking down the beach with Jerry; blissfully unaware of the part his old partner had to play in this whole mess.

Right now, his gut was telling him that he needed to get to that beach-house as fast as humanly possible. Shawn's gut feelings were rarely wrong. He knew he shouldn't feel this way but the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans comforted him a little.

"Come on, come on, come on," Shawn muttered under his breath as he turned onto the beach road and pulled in next to his father's truck. He turned off the car but left the keys in the ignition just in case. He got out and was about to slam the door behind him when he saw Jerry pointing his gun at the crumpled form of his father on the ground.

"Dad!" he yelled as he scrambled over the rocks that separated the tarmac and the sand. He ran towards his father, kicking up sand as he dropped to his father's side and tried to nudge him awake. "Come on, old man. We're supposed to go out for beers later."

Jerry paled and adjusted his aim so it was now pointing at Shawn, "You're Henry's kid."

Shawn ignored him as he pulled off his flannel overshirt and bunched it up before pressing it against the exit wound on his father's back. He flipped his Dad on his back and applied pressure to the wound on his chest with his hands.

"How'd you know…?" Jerry trailed off.

Shawn ignored the question and swallowed hard. He levelled his gaze at the man – and the gun he was pointing at his head. "Hey, man. Don't make this worse for yourself. Put the gun down and walk away."

The man frowned at the young man's non-answer but didn't move to shoot. Shawn could read the confusion and various other conflicting emotions on Jerry's face. The man's tells were about as obvious as they were when Shawn cleaned him out of his spare change more than a decade ago in a game of poker.

"I never would have pegged you as a legitimate psychic," Jerry answered his own ignored question. He waved his gun at the pair, "Then again, I also thought you and Henry couldn't care less about one another."

"Is that how you tried to justify… this?" Shawn's disgusted voice got higher and higher. "I don't even know what to think anymore." He paused for a second and growled, "He trusted you; all of you. Weren't you supposed to be part—"

A cough followed by some hacking interrupted Shawn's monologue from below. "Stop talking… like I'm… already dead, kid."

Everything seemed to stop right at that moment – the sound of the waves drowned out by the sound of his Dad's voice. Sure, it sounded a bit weak but it was there and that was all that mattered. Well, at that moment in time anyway.

"It's nice of you to join us, Dad," Shawn let out his breath in relief. He half-heartedly teased his Dad, "You could never foretake – forgo? – a lecture, could you?"

"Please tell me… you called… back-up," Henry scrunched up his face in pain.

Shawn winced. If he was lucky, back-up would arrive soon in the form of Lassiter and Gus. They should have pieced everything together by now. If not, at the very least, he had one of Lassiter's guns on him.

He looked up at Jerry who was shifting about impatiently and looking in the direction of his father's truck and Gus's blueberry. Shawn inferred that he was looking out for the so-called back-up. Suddenly, he realised that this meant that Jerry was momentarily distracted – that, and leaving the keys in the Blueberry was a stupid move on his part.

His hand moved behind him towards Lassiter's gun and wrapped around the handle tightly. The click of the safety being turned off will alert the other man to his weapon so Shawn steeled himself to shoot quickly.

So that's exactly what he did.


	2. Lassie to the rescue

Shawn had been tempted to shoot the man in a vital area. Really tempted. So much so that he still reserved the right to shoot if Jerry attempted anything funny. As it was, the old man was now clutching his bleeding hand tightly and his gun was lying on the ground a few feet from where he was standing.

"W-where'd the gun come from?" Jerry gasped.

For an old cop, Shawn was surprised that he'd forgotten the procedures that had kept him alive in the force. His Dad had drilled him using his own specific brand of cop common-sense 101. Being alert at all times and checking for hidden weapons were just two of Henry's many rules that Jerry had broken.

His father took a shuddering breath, "You… came prepared?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? Back-up should be arriving soon," Shawn answered. Not once did he take his eyes off of Jerry.

"You actually… called… back-up?"

Shawn chuckled. Jerry trembled a bit at the laughter, unnerved by the unwavering gaze of the thirty-year-old in front of him. "Didn't need to. My dramatic exit was enough to alert them to the fact that something was wrong. Plus, I stole this gun from Lassie. He'd chase me to the ends of the earth just to get it back."

Jerry slowly started to back away from the gun as sirens sounded in the far-off distance. He held up his bloody hands in an attempt to placate Shawn. "Look, kid. If you wanted to kill me you would have done so already. That's why I'm going to slowly head over to that boat over there."

Shawn had remembered seeing a small fishing boat tied to a moor as he scrambled over the rocks. That was probably what the old man was gesturing to. If he had to guess it was probably bobbing about fifty metres to the left of where he was kneeling.

"You seriously think I'm going to let you go?" Shawn asked bewildered. "Don't be as desperate as the desperate housewife who took the show to court." He frowned and looked down at his pale father, "Remind me to tell Gus to stop Tivoing shows like that."

The brief look that Shawn had shared with his father was all it took for the old man to run away. A small part of Shawn wanted to shoot at him but he knew the cops would be there soon. The sirens were getting louder by the second. The cavalry would most probably arrive in about a minute or two.

Bang!

Shawn flinched as a shot rang out. Jerry Carp fell forwards while in mid-run. The large red stain on the back of his t-shirt grew as he lay on the ground. Unless the pseudo psychic could suddenly shoot people in the back just by glaring at them, there was a third shooter at the beach. Oh, crap!

The thought of another homicidal maniac scared the police consultant – especially a shooter with ninja-like skills. He knew that he and his father were sitting ducks out here on the beach. Since the police just pulled up behind the Blueberry, they were also in danger.

"Shooter's… on the… cliff," Henry ground out.

Sure enough, a lithe, black-clad man could be seen on the cliff to their right behind Carp's beach house. The man's rifle was mounted on a tripod and was pointed in their direction. Shawn made a mental note to ask his father how he managed to spot the shooter so quickly. He knew he was trying his luck but he pointed his gun in the direction of the shooter and pulled the trigger a few times.

Of course, there was no way Lassiter's gun was powerful enough to reach the target. Shawn bit back disappointment and consoled himself with the fact that at least the police would have heard the shots. Hopefully, they would be a bit more cautious in approaching the scene now.

"Spencer! What. The. Hell." Lassiter approached the scene. He was wearing a vest and wielding his spare gun. So much for being more cautious.

Juliet was right behind Lassiter; still making her way across the rocks. She had a look of confusion on her face and her own gun drawn in front of her. They were obviously wondering why Shawn was shooting into thin air.

"There's another shooter. On the cliff," Shawn exclaimed. "He shot Carp."

"McNab!" Lassiter yelled, his eyes staying trained on Shawn. The officer in question turned in the direction of his voice. "Spencer says there's another shooter on the cliff. Verify the possibility and get all personnel out of the line of fire if need be. "

"If need be?" Shawn gave a fake gasp. "Lassie, don't you trust me?"

Lassiter frowned and gave Shawn a look that screamed 'not as far as I can throw you'. Granted, he had just stolen Lassiter's gun so he was probably number one on Lassiter's crap list right now. Although, now that he thinks about it, he's always on Lassiter's list for one reason or another.

After rolling his eyes, Shawn dropped the gun he had stolen. His father grimaced in pain as Shawn added his newly free hand to his chest. Where in the world was the ambulance? Surely somebody would have called for a bus already?

While he was contemplating this, the radio on Lassiter's shoulder crackled to life. "Detective Lassiter, this is Officer McNab, over."

Lassiter used his free hand to answer the call, "Status report, McNab."

"No evidence of a third shooter, Sir," McNab answered. Shawn whipped his head in the direction of the now deserted cliff. "We've also canvassed the area for people, Sir. Do you want us to look again?"

"No need," Lassiter growled and waved the CSUs onto the scene.

In no time, the scene had been cordoned off and most of the evidence bagged. Shawn thought that the sad look on Lassie's face when they bagged his gun was amusing as heck. Fortunately, he didn't have much time to sit around amusing himself. The EMTs had arrived to take care of his father.

Shawn quickly got out of their way as they quickly assessed the situation. Soon, his old man was lifted up onto a gurney and carried over the rocks towards the waiting ambulance.

He made to follow the crew when a hand on his shoulder stopped him, "Where do you think you're going?"

"The little boys' room. Where do you think I'm going?"" Shawn said wryly. He looked around and saw Juliet who was signing some forms for one of the CSUs, "Tell Lassifrass here to let up a little. He'll get his gun back eventually."

Juliet finished up her work and sighed. "Shawn, this isn't about Carlton's gun."

"It's not?"

When she averted her eyes, he knew something was up. His confusion only multiplied when he felt himself being manhandled by the Head Detective behind him. Were those… cuffs?

"Shawn Spencer. You are under arrest for the murder of Jerry Carp."

"Seriously?" he squawked.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law."


	3. SBPD Sicced By Police Detective

"I didn't kill the guy! Sure I wanted to…" Shawn trailed off. "But I have more self-control than that."

Lassiter snorted and sat back in his chair. Shawn and Lassiter were currently occupying one of the Department's interrogation rooms. Somewhere behind that two-way mirror, Shawn knew his girlfriend was standing. The chief had probably told her that she had to maintain a professional distance for the time being.

The Head Detective in front of him picked up a file from the desk and flipped through it, "This case has been bumped up to a homicide investigation due to the circumstances of the shooting. In addition to the fact that the Vic was shot in the back, he was also weaponless. That, in itself, is insufficient grounds for a self-defence case."

"That doesn't mean iI/i did it!" Shawn gave an exasperated groan.

"You were the only person at the scene," Lassiter replied tersely. "You also have means and a motive. The evidence clearly points towards you."

"The evidence hasn't even been processed yet!"

Lassiter gave a cruel smile, "And when it has, I'm looking forward to personally escorting you to your jail cell."

Shawn levelled his gaze at Lassiter before clenching his fists and looking down. "I believed you when everyone thought you had shot somebody," he grumbled.

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then there was a rustle of papers and the sound of a chair being scraped across the ground. Shawn looked up to see Lassiter switching off the recording device and bundling it into his arms.

"I'm going to ask Woody to hurry it up on the autopsy report."

A large grin broke out on Shawn's face. "Lassie-face, I knew you liked me. Trust me, the bullet in Carp's back won't match your gun!"

Lassiter's face stayed as impassive as ever when Shawn said this. His eye did twitch a little at the mention of his gun but that didn't worry Shawn at all. It was what he said next that gave his reason to be concerned.

"Spencer," Lassiter began slowly. "Whatever you insinuated I was saying, you are wrong. Sweet Lady Justice is all that matters. The sooner the evidence is processed; the sooner you will be rotting in a prison cell."

Even though Lassiter still seemed to be against him, Shawn took solace in the fact that the evidence would end up speaking for itself. In fact, Woody's preliminary report would be all that's needed to acquit him. Lassiter sure jumped the gun (pun intended) on this one.

Next time something like this happens, he'll steal someone else's gun. Not Jules' gun. An angry girlfriend is worse than an angry Lassiter. Now McNab's gun, on the other hand, he could get away with – that man was too nice for his own good.

It was during this internal musing that the door opened to reveal the Chief. Karen Vick stood in the doorway with crossed arms and a stern look on her face. She cleared her throat, "Mr Spencer. You are free to leave."

Shawn whooped as he got out of the chair and rushed to the door. As he was about to pass the chief, she held out an arm to stop him from leaving, "I shouldn't need to say this but it's important that you stay in town. You are still our lead suspect."

Instantly all the energy that he had just exhibited faded away, "But Chief…"

"I don't want to hear it," she cut him off. "Have a nice day, Mr. Spencer. I trust you can find your own way out."

She left the deflated man in the doorway as she strode off. After a second of standing there doing nothing, Shawn shook himself awake and stepped through the door into the nearly deserted hallway. Juliet was still standing there staring into the now empty room. Shawn cleared his throat and she jumped.

"Sorry, Shawn. I've just been a little spaced out," she said.

"Are you alright?" he frowned. Something was off about her. He just couldn't place what. "I swear I didn't kill the man Jules. If I had wanted to kill him I could have done it when he had the gun in his hands. Trust me…"

A finger to his lips stopped him in his tracks. Somewhere during his rambling, Juliet had crossed the room. She was now standing in front of him with a sad look on her face.

"I know you didn't do it, Shawn."

He must have had a weird mixture of confusion and surprise on his face because she laughed. Sure it was a beautiful sound to his ears but the fact of the matter was she still laughed. At ihim/i. And he had no clue why.

As if reading his mind, she sighed, "It feels like a repeat of the Yang thing. Everything is going well. Real well. Then, out of nowhere, a psycho pops out of the woodwork and everything is turned upside down. I-I can't…"

That was when Shawn removed her hand from his lips and kissed her. It was tantalisingly sweet and they broke it off far too early for his tastes but it seemed to have done the trick. Jules shoulders weren't set in a tense line anymore.

"Come on," she said. "I'll drive you to the hospital. We're going to have to stop by my desk so I can pick up my purse."

Shawn grinned as he walked behind her but soon the grin faded as he noticed the disgusted looks being shot at him as he walked through the station. Damn, news sure travelled fast. Some of the people glaring at him were from the Narcotics Department. There were also a few Parking Wardens giving him the evil eye.

Sure, he too would have been disgusted with himself if he had shot an unarmed man in the back. After all he'd been through and done with the department, he should at the very least get the benefit of a doubt. Come on, the hard evidence hadn't even been taken into consideration yet.

"Got it," Jules walked over to where he was standing. It was like a switch was thrown in the room. Everyone stopped glaring at him for a few seconds as she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the station.

He took one last look at his surroundings, "Let's go."


	4. Henry speaks mumble

When Shawn and Juliet arrived at the hospital, the first place they headed was the front desk. They asked for a Henry Spencer and were surprised to find out that he was nearly out of surgery – apparently, Shawn's Dad now had a bullet wound in his shoulder in around the same place as Shawn had been shot.

Now that he thinks about it, Jerry's hands were wavering a bit as he rushed onto the scene. Maybe it was that thing that some folks got when they got older. He should really ask Gus what it's called.

"Gus!" He'd nearly forgotten about his best bud. Where on earth was he? He whipped his head around until he spotted Gus.

"It's about time you arrived," his friend walked up to him. At his confused look Gus rolled his eyes. What is with people and their reaction to his confusion? "Your dad's been in surgery for the last couple of hours, Shawn. What distracted you this time?"

"I was being interrogated by Lassiter."

Gus didn't look convinced. "And you couldn't reschedule? This is your father we're talking about here."

"I'm the lead suspect in a murder investigation, man," Shawn replied. "If I had a say, they wouldn't have needed to drag me off in cuffs."

"You better not be pulling my leg, Shawn."

"He's not," Jules interjected from behind him. Gus looked a little surprised to see her. "After the initial shock wore off, he put up a pretty impressive fight. He got sand in Carlton's eyes and kneed him in the groin. It looked painful."

Gus raised his eyebrows and shrugged. It must have sounded legitimate to him – especially the underhanded fighting techniques she was describing. Shawn gasped at his friend's obvious resignation, "You believe her and not me! Gus… I can't tell you how ashamed I am of you right now."

"Suck it, Shawn," Gus said quickly. "After stealing my car, you really have no say at the moment."

"Dude! I don't think that even qualifies as 'no say' material."

Shawn's last response sent the two of them into a frenzied whisper argument. As was the case with such arguments, neither of them really understood what the other person was arguing about. All that mattered was the fact that Shawn knew that he would somehow win.

Except this time they were interrupted by a man in blue scrubs with a clipboard. He looked up from the board at the mostly empty waiting area by the front desk.

"Family of Henry Spencer," the man called out.

Shawn took in a deep breath before answering, "That would be me."

He hadn't even realised he had been holding his breath since the moment the man had walked into the room. The man gestured for Shawn and his friends to follow him before leading them down the hallway to a more private area.

The man frowned a little as he studied the folder. He looked up at Shawn, "You are Henry Spencer's…?"

"Son," Shawn answered. "I'm Henry Spencer's son."

"Well, Mr. Spencer. I hear the nurses have already updated you on the position of the bullet wound and how that might impact his survival," the man said. "I'm happy to report that your father is going to be fine. However, there were some minor complications during the surgery. We'd like to keep him under observation for a few more days."

"Complications?" Gus asked. "What complications?"

The doctor began to answer Gus' question but was quickly interrupted. The sincere look on Shawn's face hard to ignore as he voiced the question that had been on his mind during the whole exchange: "Can I see him?"

"You may," the doctor nodded towards a door across the hall.

Shawn left Gus and Jules with the doctor as he immediately went over to the door. He knew they would relay anything important the Doctor had to say but right now, he just needed to see his big Poppa Bear and verify for himself that everything was alright.

As he let himself in, the first thing he saw was his father lying on the small hospital bed in the centre of the room. For some reason, his father had an oxygen mask over his face. Maybe that had something to do with the complications the doctor had mentioned.

"Hey, Dad," Shawn spoke to the man as he pulled one of the chairs against the wall towards the hospital bed. "Sorry, I'm late. If I hadn't continually pissed off Lassiter, he wouldn't have left me waiting in the interrogation room for a couple of hours. Did I mention I'm a suspect for the murder of Jerry Carp?"

Shawn was quite surprised when the man before him seemed to mumble in his sleep. It was almost like he had heard his monologue.

When his father slowly opened his eyes and looked at him, he was sure that the man had actually heard what he had said. "I don't speak mumble, Dad. You should know by now that my native language is gibberish not mumble."

Henry Spencer raised an eyebrow at his kid but otherwise remained perfectly still. Shawn twisted in his chair under his father's gaze; it was the very same look he received when he was a kid. Normally, it was followed by a sharp reprimand. He could find solace in the fact that he couldn't understand his father right now.

"If you're saying what I think you are saying…" Shawn backpedalled, "In the Department's defence, it wasn't looking good for me. They couldn't keep the body at the scene for very long because the tide was coming in. I was the only one they found at the scene and Woody still hasn't filled in his preliminary autopsy yet."

His father frowned and tried to sit up but Shawn stopped him.

"Don't worry. There's no way I'm going to jail for this. You don't need a full autopsy report to realise that the bullet was of a different calibre and the trajectory was all wrong."

This time, Henry growled and brought a hand up to his face. He weakly pulled down the mask and glared at Shawn. "I can testify that you didn't do it, kid. I just wanted to know when I could get out of this damn hospital."

"Oh," Shawn said. He dug his face into the covers of his Dad's hospital bed in order to hide his embarrassment.

Shawn's old man shook his head and ruffled his son's hair, a small smile gracing his face as he did so.


	5. Resting easy

Shawn still had his face buried in the covers of his Dad's hospital bed when Gus and Juliet entered with the doctor a couple of minutes later. The doctor looked a little surprised to see that Henry was awake already.

As the man proceeded to ask Henry questions about how he was feeling, Shawn's stomach let out a low growl. He'd nearly forgotten he hadn't eaten anything for the last 7 hours. His late breakfast that morning could hardly have been called substantial.

Gus laughed and slapped Shawn on the back. "How about we quickly go get something to eat, dude? The vending machine outside has a pretty good selection of snacks to tide us over."

Since Juliet and the doctor were in the room, Shawn was happy to follow Gus out of the room. Sure enough, a vending machine was just down the hallway. Gus pulled out his wallet and fed some money into the machine before making his own very sugary selections.

When he was done, Shawn stepped up to the machine before turning and holding his hand out. Gus glared at Shawn but forked over some cash anyway. After Shawn made his first selection, a packet of funyuns, Gus spoke up.

"Your father has sleep apnea."

Shawn paused, his finger hovering over one of the buttons on the vending machine right outside his Dad's hospital room. He furrowed his brow and turned to Gus, "Sleep a-what-now?"

"Sleep apnea, Shawn," Gus reiterated. "It's a sleep disorder characterised by pauses in breathing – hence the reason why your Dad is on a CPAP machine. Patients with sleep apnea have to be monitored closely following surgery because of the problems with their airways."

"CPAP?"

"The thing that looks like an oxygen mask," his friend rolled his eyes as if he was isupposed/i to know these things.

Shawn turned back to the machine and made his second selection. The machine whirred and his pineapple juicebox gave a soft thud as it hit the bottom of the retrieval area. He reached in to grab the items he chose before ripping open the straw's plastic wrap and violently stabbing it into the juicebox. This did not go unnoticed by his best bud.

"Shawn, your father's going to be fine," Gus said. "Of course, he's going to have to get his own CPAP machine but now that they've caught it, he can rest easy."

At first, Shawn didn't say anything. A second later, he chuckled. "I see what you did there, buddy."

Shawn gave Gus a fist bump for his successful attempt at wordplay before heading back down the hall. Since Gus' arms were overladen with snacks, Shawn opened the door and let them in.

The doctor had already left and Juliet was sitting next to Henry's bed reading a magazine. Shawn's Dad must have turned the hospital room's TV on because there was a fishing show airing. Since the old man's eyes were closed, he doubted that he was really watching.

Gus pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the hospital bed while Shawn slid into a chair next to Juliet. His friend pulled out his own spoils from the vending machine before deciding on opening a pack of M&Ms and gobbling down a handful as he sat there.

"Did Gus fill you in on what the Doctor said?" Juliet leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"Yeah," he replied airily. A guilty look crossed his face. "Look, I know we planned to spend the next seventy-two hours together but…"

"You want to stay overnight at the hospital," Jules finished off knowingly. "I understand, Shawn. You want to make sure your father is okay. I'm sure we could postpone it by a day or two."

Shawn placed his arm around her shoulders before drawing her in and giving her a small squeeze. She smiled and went back to reading her magazine as the monotonous voice of the commentator sounded from the TV in the background – the only other sound being the rustle of candy wrappers being opened.

Not long after he had had finished gorging on his funyuns, he was jostled by Juliet as she tried to get up. "It's about time for me to check in with the station. I'm just going to step outside for a bit while I call Carlton."

Shawn nodded his assent and let her past. Across the room his buddy was sleeping off yet another sugar rush. The awkward position he was sleeping in made Shawn wince – Gus was going to feel sore later. Better than waking up on concrete after a punch to the face, he mused.

Not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth – seriously what was up with that saying – Shawn patted down his pockets before producing a black marker. He stealthily snuck across the room when the door opened and Juliet gave him a pointed look.

Not one to deliberately anger his girlfriend, he sighed and let his hand drop to the side.

"What's new?"

"A lot, actually," Juliet replied. "Carlton accidentally tripped an FBI firewall when looking for past instances of dirty-cop homicides. Chief got a phone call from them, just as she was signing off on Woody's preliminary report."

"I knew Lassie would come around!" Shawn exclaimed loudly.

Gus grumbled, "I don't care if Lassie can do the moonwalk and dance like Michael Jackson… I'm trying to sleep here."

Shawn raised an eyebrow at the image before turning to Juliet, "Why's the FBI involved?"

"I don't know. Apparently, the FBI is sending an agent in the morning. They're going to brief the department on whom we might be dealing with now that you've been officially cleared of all charges. Carlton said he'd help them set up."

Shawn whooped in response.

Gus groaned when he realised that he wouldn't be going back to sleep. That was when he noticed the marker in one of the hands Shawn had just thrown into the air. "Oh, hell no. You better not have drawn on me, Shawn."


	6. A rain of bullets and a shower of glass

It was early the next morning when Shawn's sleep was disturbed by high-pitched giggling. He blearily opened his eyes and pulled down the fleece blanket covering his face. It took him a while to get his bearings and realise that he was suspended between two rather uncomfortable chairs – one of which was being used as a makeshift foot rest.

Another giggle pierced the air. He turned towards the maker of the noise: a middle-aged nurse. She was handing his father a steaming hot cup of coffee to go with the tray of breakfast laid out in front of him.

"Oh, Henry, you are such a flirt!" she exclaimed.

"I was just stating the truth," Henry replied suavely.

Shawn gagged as she giggled and kissed his dad on the forehead, slipping him a small slip of paper as she left. Henry tucked it between the tray and his plate before taking a sip of his coffee and setting it down as well.

"Enjoying the show?" Henry turned to his son and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Why would you even think that?" Shawn was sure his face was as green as he was feeling right now. "Ew. I'm never going to get that image out of my mind."

"Of course you won't. You have an eidetic memory."

Shawn covered his face with the blanket and groaned, "You know that's not what I meant."

His father just laughed and tucked into his food – which didn't seem to resemble the mush Shawn would have expected a hospital to serve. He would bet a hundred dollars that the nurse from before had something to do with the higher quality meal.

"Detective O'Hara called earlier," his father said as he munched. "She's on her way with breakfast. Apparently, the pair of you are heading over to the station for a briefing with an FBI agent."

Even though the thought of breakfast made him salivate, Shawn knew his father was prying for more information despite the lack of actual questions. He smiled, "Yeah, Lassie stumbled upon something while doing some background investigating. You were asleep when Jules informed me that I was no longer a homicide suspect."

"Congratulations, kid," his Dad said just before he took a bite of his toast.

Shawn didn't know how to respond to that so he decided that it was a good time to focus on getting up. He swung his legs off the chair in front of him and stretched out like a cat. This did nothing to ease his tense muscles but, after spending the night in a chair, what did he expect?

A knock sounded at the door and a familiar blonde head popped through the door. She smiled and entered the room with a couple of paper bags in her arms. "Shawn, you're awake! When I called ten minutes ago you were still asleep."

"He just woke up," Henry smirked. "The kid could never get up earlier than eight. It's a wonder he ever got to school on time."

"Daaad!" Shawn whined.

Juliet bit her lip to stop from laughing at the two of them. She handed Shawn one of the paper bags and sat down in the chair his feet used to be on. Shawn opened the bag to see that Juliet had gotten him a breakfast burrito. He grinned and took a big bite as she ate her bagel.

"I stopped by at the station on the way here," Juliet informed them. "Agent Ewing had just arrived. Carlton's helping him set up the powerpoint for the briefing."

Shawn nearly spat out a mouthful of burrito. He coughed, "T-the same… Agent Ewing who keeps a spare shirt in his pocket?"

Juliet laughed at his reaction, "The very same."

Shawn balled up his now empty paper bag and tossed it perfectly into a small waste-basket in the corner of the room. He then proceeded to cross his arms and sink down into his chair like a child. If that wasn't enough, he felt the need to pout as well.

Just as Juliet was finishing off her bagel, her phone began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and turned to Shawn, "It's Carlton. I better take this; it must be important if he can't wait till he sees me next."

"I'll meet you in the car," Shawn stood up and held out his hand for the keys. "There is no way I'm going to that meeting without cleaning up first."

Jules handed him her keys and answered the call, "Um, hey Carlton. Yeah, we are still at the hospital…"

Shawn shuffled out of the room and into the hallway as he fiddled with Juliet's keys. He nodded to some of the staff he recognised from the day before as he made his way to the large hospital foyer. It was busier than the night before.

The bright light that streamed in through the large glass windows and doors was a lot warmer than the artificial light of the hallways that he had just been walking through. Just when he was about to step up to the large doors that led out of the hospital, he heard a yell come from behind him.

"Shawn!"

He stopped and turned to see Juliet behind running towards him. She had an anxious look on her face. Whatever Lassie had just told her, it must have been important if she felt the need to inform him so quickly.

"Get down!"

For some reason, Shawn was having trouble processing exactly what she meant by that. When she tackled him to the ground merely two seconds later he finally understood. In that moment, everything seemed to go in slow motion: the glass of the front doors shattered and people started shrieking as they scrambled away from the windows.

Juliet cried out and Shawn nearly freaked when he saw blood on the sleeve of Juliet's blouse. That was when his instincts finally kicked in, telling him to drag the two of them behind the front desk. So that's exactly what he did.

When the bullets stopped raining down, Shawn shakily dialled Lassiter's number on his iphone. He hugged Juliet closer to him as he waited for the man to answer in his usual gruff tone.


	7. FBI is one letter away from FYI

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Shawn, I'm fine," Jules ground out frustratedly. "The bullet barely grazed me."

Juliet was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed in a small room just off the ER. A nurse was tending to her upper arm as Shawn stood to the side and fidgeted. Because the room was so small, when the door opened to reveal Lassiter's head, it knocked Shawn forward a bit.

"Ouch," Shawn yelped.

Lassiter ignored him and sidled into the small room. "The SWAT team are still combing the area for the shooter," the detective informed them. He stopped to look at his partner. "Are you okay, O'Hara?"

"I'm fine!" Juliet snapped back at him.

The nurse attending to Juliet sighed and pushed them out of the room. "I think it may be better if you two wait outside."

Shawn readied himself to protest the motion when the door was closed on him. He closed his gaping mouth and his shoulder's drooped when he realised that it was useless.

Lassiter didn't seem too fazed at his dismissal and instead directed his report to Shawn, "The bullets used in this shooting match the one we found in the back of Jerry Carp. It's the same shooter."

The pseudo psychic shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at the floor. "This is all my fault. I should have seen this coming."

"Not all of us can be psychic, Spencer," Lassiter couldn't resist the jibe.

A guilty look flashed across Shawn's face and he averted his gaze. "How'd iyou/i know that he'd be after me?"

"When I was helping Ewing set up, I looked through the criminal profile of our perp. This guy seems to have a tendency to indiscriminately kill anyone involved in his business. All I did was pass this information onto O'Hara. Since you were the only one to actually see this guy, she must have connected the dots herself."

"No. This guy doesn't randomly kill people," Shawn stated.

Lassiter raised his eyebrows, "…and what evidence do you have for this?"

Shawn rolled his eyes and raised a hand up to his head and let it hover there for a second before dropping his hand again. This non-answer seemed to annoy the Detective next to him enough into walking away.

Truthfully, Shawn had just asked himself one question: Why did the shooter wait to kill him now? He could have easily done so when he was on the beach. Surely, the man wouldn't contradict himself just for the hell of it.

The answer was simple: the killer knew something about him that he didn't know before. He'd bet a pineapple smoothie that it had something to do with his success rate as a psychic police consultant. Add that to the fact that Shawn had actually seen him and you'd get a cocktail of motive.

"Lassie, wait!" he jogged up to the man.

When Lassiter turned to acknowledge him, Shawn spoke, "You misinterpreted me. The reason he wants me dead is ibecause/i I'm psychic. I wasn't talking about how I know this."

"Either way, without solid evidence, your quack theories are useless."

"Yet you still investigated the possibility of another shooter," Shawn pointed out.

Lassiter narrowed his eyes, "What are you getting at?"

"A good cop looks through all the possibilities," Shawn smirked. He quickly glanced over Lassiter's shoulder, "Isn't that right, buddy?"  
"I'm not yo—"

"What the hell happened here, Shawn?" Gus interrupted Lassiter. He walked up to them before gesturing behind him at the completely destroyed hospital foyer. A few SWAT members were still walking through the area.

"Why do you automatically assume that I had something to do with it?"

Gus gave Shawn a look that could easily be translated as 'You have got to be kidding me'. "You normally do."

Shawn shrugged. "It's not my fault that I tend to attract psychos."

"That still doesn't answer my original question, Shawn,"

Lassiter sighed, and sensing one of their pointless little arguments, decided to step in, "Look, since neither of you simpletons have a full understanding of what's going on, why don't we convene in Spencer's hospital room? That way, I can fill you iall/i in on the briefing you missed this morning."

"That sounds like a great idea," a familiar female voice interjected.

Shawn turned to see his lovely girlfriend entering the hallway behind a nurse. Bandages covered the top of her arm and the edge of her sleeve was still stained with red. He gave her a small smile and clamped down on his friend's arm when he opened his mouth.  
Despite Shawn's death-grip on his arm, Gus didn't seem to get the hint. "Are you—"

"Let's get going, dude," Shawn urgently began to pull him down the hall. "My Dad is probably wondering what on earth is going on."

"As am I, Shawn!" his friend answered as he was pushed down the hall.

When Lassiter and Juliet were far enough behind them, Shawn quickly told his buddy to avoid asking Juliet if she was alright. Admittedly, he was the one to cause her frustration but he chose not to mention that. Not that he needed to; his friend knew him well enough to guess that it was probably the case.

There was another reason for his urgency to beat the pair of detectives to his father's room. He needed to explain to his father why he hadn't assured him he was okay earlier – preferably before he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

Thankfully, Lassiter and Juliet were immersed in a conversation and they didn't seem to be in a rush to follow them. Shawn pulled Gus into the room and quickly shut the door behind them.

"It's about time you came, Shawn."

Henry was sitting in his bed, reading a newspaper. He looked at them over the top of his reading glasses and raised an eyebrow critically.  
"Jules was shot."

Shawn's father pulled his reading glasses off his head and exhaled sharply. He lifted an arm up to his head and ran his hand through his mostly non-existent hair. He gaped a little before finally settling on something to say, "Tough break, kid."

"She's fine," Shawn cut in quickly. "Apparently, it only grazed her."

Henry looked a lot more relieved after he heard that. Even though his relationship with Shawn had improved, they still weren't good at the emotional stuff. That and he knew that his son would be devastated if it were any worse.

Gus chose this moment to intervene, "Juliet's on her way here with Lassiter right now. He's going to brief us on whom we might be dealing with."

"That's why I rushed us here, Gus," Shawn said. "There's something I need to make clear before they get here: Juliet's already likened this to the Yin/Yang fiasco and I'm starting to believe that she's right. If we're dealing with yet another psycho – I'm really going to need your help."

Henry and Gus nodded in silent agreement.


	8. Lying low

Lassiter and Juliet entered Henry's room five minutes later with the addition of a state-of-the-art FBI laptop. Shawn deduced that there must be photos of prior crime scenes that the detective needed to show them. Since Shawn's 'visions' relied heavily upon what he could 'see', he was glad because visual aides were a big help.

Lassie placed the laptop on the same wheely table that Henry had placed his newspaper and his reading glasses. The detective opened up the laptop to show them a blurry photograph of the same masked figure Shawn had spotted on the cliff.

"We're pretty damn sure that the person we're dealing with is this guy," Lassiter stated. "He calls himself 'The Broker' because he's the one who brokers the deals between criminal groups and dirty cops."

"Seriously? The Broker?" Shawn said incredulously. "Sounds like a stuffy bank manager."

"I don't know, Shawn," Gus said. "I think the name's cool."

"You would."

"I'm with Gus on this one. When I hear it, I've got this image of a guy going around breaking bones. Ugh," Juliet joined in the pair's discussion.

"Not you too, Jules."

Lassiter cleared his throat loudly and flipped to an old police report from the 80s. "This was the first case that could be attributed to 'The Broker'. When the officer in charge of this case was murdered, we found a wad of cash in his house along with a copy of a signed agreement between him and a local gang. A couple of the lines were highlighted."

Shawn looked carefully at the old photos of the cash and the agreement. The highlighted lines didn't really mean much to him but he took note of it anyway.

Lassiter flipped to a crime scene photo of another dead cop. Once again, with it came pictures of a different safe but the contents were eerily similar - wads of cash and a highlighted copy of the agreement, "This is the second homicide..." He flipped to another, "..and this is the third."

Shawn squinted at the picture of the safe in the third homocide. It was different from the other two safes. It also looked a lot more complicated then the other safes. It was also a little damaged.

"Dude," he nudged his buddy. "Which safe would be the hardest to break into?"

"The third one, obviously," Gus said. "It's on a whole different level than the other two. All you need is time and a good ear for the others."

Shawn turned back to Lassiter who was flipping through photos from more cases. He raised his hand up to his head. "The spirits are telling me that 'The Broker' broke into their safes," he said in one big breath.

Shawn thought back to the highlighted agreements - maybe 'The Broker had something to do with that. The only problem with that theory was that they were all highlighted differently. There was still something he was missing; the Broker wouldn't break in for no reason.

Shawn gasped, "He highlighted the sections where they reneged on the contract. It must have been a warning of sorts to other dirty cops."

Lassiter looked thoughtful, "If what you're saying is true - and I'm not saying it is - why go to such arduous lengths to explain his reasoning? A letter could have sufficed."

"Maybe there were multiple recipients for the warning?" Juliet guessed.

"Or, he has a problem with contacting them," Henry added.

Lassiter sighed, "We're getting more questions than answers. It's a good thing he's going after Spencer; we now know that he'll be nearby."

Everyone glared at Lassiter for his insensitive comment but didn't bother to correct him because they knew it was true. They had a better chance at catching this guy than anyone has ever had in the past. It was about time he was put behind bars.

Since it had been a while since somebody had deliberately flipped through the pictures on the laptop, the autoplay kicked in and moved on to the next slide. It was a timeline of all the cases attributed to 'The Broker'. Nearly sixty dirty-cop homicides in thirty years.

Shawn winced at the map alongside the timeline. The homicides were spread out over 16 different states. It looked like 'The Broker' made frequent trips to and from each state because none of the consecutive cases occured in the same state.

"He sure seems to travel a lot," Gus observed. "He's probably got a lot of frequent flier points."

"The FBI looked into that. Whoever this is knows how to cover their tracks," Lassiter said. "None of the passenger manifests for planes had any obvious similarities."

Shawn was happy when Lassie flipped to the next slide; it was the criminal profile of their suspect. Unfortunately, it didn't really have anything too substantial in terms of new avenues to investigate. Despite it not being new knowledge, there were two things that stood out to Shawn:

1.) 'The Broker' was violent. He had no qualms about torturing people to death. This was evidenced in thirty-three cases.

2.) He was able to slip out of a cordoned off area swarming with police officers forty-eight times in the past. Forty-nine if you counted his disappearance from the cliff.

"Has the SWAT team finished combing the area?" Shawn asked.

This time it was Lassie's turn to wince. "Yes, they have. I got a call just as I was going to enter Henry's room."

"So..."

"They haven't found anyone or anything suspicious," Lassiter answered. "They have identified where the shots were coming from, though."

Make that fifty times 'The Broker' has managed to evade the authorities while directly under their noses.


	9. Ewing's scaremongering

After nearly two hours of pouring over all the past case files attributed to 'The Broker', Shawn, Henry and Gus were about to fall asleep – Henry even more so, since he was still recovering from a bullet to the chest. What sucked was that, other than the varying highlighted sections of their contracts, all the cases seemed to be identical.

Having only one laptop between the three of them seemed a little counterproductive as what would have normally taken them a half an hour with paper files seemed to be taking forever. Admittedly, it was better than having no case files to go through at all.

They did have one file with them, though. It was the newest file on Carp – Agent Ewing had delivered it to them a half-an-hour ago. In it, was a picture of Carp's safe with his money and a signed contract. Shawn had been intrigued to see what sections had been highlighted in Carp's contract. Apparently, it goes against the contract if you're suspected to be a dirty cop.

This prompted more than a fair share of questions: First of all, how did 'The Broker' know he was going to be a suspect long before the police knew? If that were the case, why didn't he try to kill Jack Atwater who has already been arrested for being a dirty cop?

"Shawn," Juliet stepped into the room. He was so immersed in the files, he hadn't heard her usual polite knock.

"Yeah, Jules?"

"There's absolutely nothing of value at the sniper's perch – no sign of a gun even being there," she said. "Would you like to 'psychically' look around? We can't catch this guy if we have nothing to go on."

Shawn nodded before turning to his best friend and nudging him awake. "Dude, we're going to take a look at the scene across the street. We can spring for some jerk chicken on our way back to the hospital."

Gus got up and stretched, "You know that's right."

Barely seconds after they had exited the room, they were surrounded by SWAT members. Shawn and Gus were a little taken aback by the sudden barrage of people entering their personal space. Juliet also looked a little uncomfortable despite her lack of surprise.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that I have an escort courtesy of Agent Ewing," Juliet replied.

Shawn blanched, "You said 'I' not 'we'. Does that mean this is just for you?"

"Yes, this is just for me."

"This is an odd way to woo a person," Shawn yelped out as he was pushed through the hallway to the foyer. "You did mention to Ewing that you're taken, right?"

"He responded by adding a couple more SWAT members," she sighed.

Shawn raised his eyebrows at that. He'd like to think it had something to do with the fact that he had a target on his back but that was probably not the case. He had a feeling it was Ewing's attempt to chaperone them whilst showing his concern over Juliet's safety. Fortunately, Shawn was sure this would backfire and the man would not end up in Juliet's good books.

Gus nearly tripped over the curb outside the hospital because a SWAT member was getting impatient. He glared at the man and pushed his way over to Shawn. He hissed, "This is overkill."

Shawn nodded his agreement and was relieved when they reached the building across the street. Thankfully, their escorts broke away from them when they were actually inside the building. This was a relief because being cramped in an elevator with beefy, sweaty men would not have been Shawn's idea of fun.

"What floor do they think he was on?" Shawn asked as he stood by the elevator buttons.

Juliet rolled her eyes and pressed the button for the third floor, "I thought you were supposed to be psychic?"

"The spirits don't tell me everything!" he exclaimed.

Gus leant back on the guardrail attached to the mirrored walls of the elevator just as someone stopped the door from closing. Shawn groaned when he noticed who it was – it was Agent Ewing. The immaculately groomed man stepped into the elevator and let the doors close behind him.

"I was meaning to ask you before, when you delivered Carp's case file…" Gus began. He must have sensed that Shawn was about to broach the subject of his and Juliet's relationship, "Where's your stenographer gone?"

"She retired," Ewing gave his usual succinct response. "I now have a wire on me at all times."

Shawn glanced at the flashing numbers above the door. Just as it was changing to a three, the elevator shuddered violently and all the lights went out.

"Oh, this is just great," Gus grumbled. "This is mighty close to nightmare number 23, Shawn. You assured me it would never happen; that the chances were very low."

"That was three years ago, Gus! There was no way I was going to climb the stairs to the twentieth floor just because you had just seen a documentary on workplace accidents," Shawn defended himself. "It's probably just an electrical fault. We'll be moving in no time."

Ewing, sensing Gus' impending panic quickly interrupted, "Since I'm wearing a wire, my team are already aware of our situation."

"So is Carlton. I just sent him a text." Juliet flipped her phone closed.

"Can't they pry the doors open and let us out of here?" Shawn asked.

"Are you insane?" Gus socked Shawn in the shoulder. "How can you remember the argument we had but not the contents of it?"

"I'm pretty good at tuning you out," Shawn said. "Refresh me on why that's a bad idea?"

Gus shut his mouth and refused to answer. His grip on the guard rail behind him tightened and he began to employ his Lamaze breathing technique in order to calm himself down. When Shawn tried to ask again, Gus sent him a look that clearly said 'don't you dare interrupt me'.

"The majority of elevator deaths occur when people are trying to get out," Ewing leaned over to the Fake Psychic and said lowly so as not to panic Guster any further. "Jumping down to a landing puts both the victims and the rescuers at risk of falling down the elevator shaft."

"We're lucky that we're just below the third landing then," Shawn said, remembering that that the number above the door was about to change to a three.

"If you're climbing up and the elevator lurches or turns back on…" Ewing drew an imaginary line across his neck. When Shawn seemed confused he sighed, "You're likely to get decapitated."

"Oh…"

That was when the elevator gave another shudder and Shawn and Gus screamed loudly and latched themselves onto Juliet. She huffed in annoyance and managed to detach them from her arms to pull out her buzzing phone.

At that moment, Shawn really hoped Ewing was just trying to scare him.


	10. The proof is in the detail

"Is Lassie still stumped with our crime scene?" Shawn asked Juliet as she hung up her phone.

Gus glared at Shawn, "A better question would be: are we going to be getting out of here anytime soon?"

"Apparently, someone turned off the power to our elevator on purpose," she responded. "They tried to sabotage it as well."

This sent the Gus into another one of his bouts of quick breathing – this had been happening a lot over the last half-hour that they had been stuck in the large box. He clutched his best friend's arm so hard that his friend winced.

"She said 'tried', Gus," Shawn said as he tried his hardest to pry Gus' fingers off his arm.

"Carlton said that Ewing's team got to him first," Juliet nodded towards the Agent in question. "Unfortunately, they scared him off and he disappeared into thin air. One of the guys managed to get a visual on the man before that, though. The description he gave matched the description you gave of the shooter at the beach, Shawn."

Ewing tapped his ear, "I've just been speaking to my team; they told me that firefighters have secured the elevator and the power will be turned on in a minute." He looked at his watch, "Make that exactly 45 seconds."

"Thank God!" Gus threw his arms into the air.

"Amen to that!" Shawn added, shaking out his freed arm. "Lassie is probably barking at his officers in frustration. Poor things – all they need is some spiritual guidance and I'm not there to provide it."

The near constant death glare he has been receiving from his friend returned once again. Juliet just rolled her eyes and Ewing didn't seem to care about his comments at all. Just when Gus was about to reprimand his friend, the elevator's lights turned on and it began to move upwards.

The doors slid open and they all shuffled out. Gus looked like he was going to kiss the floor since he was so happy that they made it out of the elevator alive. The pharmaceutical salesman did a dance and whooped out loud only to stop and shrink into the background when he noticed all the people staring at him.

"Now that you're out of the damn elevator," Lassiter said as walked up to them. He pointed at the stairwell, "I kindly suggest that you follow those stairs all the way to the ground floor."

Shawn rolled his eyes and pushed his way through a group of SWAT members and a couple of firefighters. He was heading in the opposite direction to the stairwell; he was heading towards the cordoned off suite down the hall. Since the shooter had endangered his friends in the elevator, Shawn was even more determined to find the guy.

When he entered the room, Shawn realised exactly why Lassiter was peeved that he had come – the room had next to nothing in it. If Shawn found something in this minimalistic apartment, it would be very embarrassing for the Head Detective. Nevertheless, it didn't hurt to look around.

Shawn scanned the room and, in just one glance, he could very easily peg the style of the apartment. All the furniture and walls were either a solid red, white or black. The phrase 'Bold and minimalistic' fit the suite to a T.

Lassiter cleared his throat, "This is such a waste of time. It's plain to see that there is nothing here."

When Shawn finished scanning the floor, he had the sinking feeling that Lassiter might be right for once. Still, he had to cover all his bases so he then turned his gaze to the practically bare walls and the ceiling.

"I'm getting something…" Shawn intoned. He waved his arm in circles in front of him, "I'm getting… a big frowny face and the word 'detail'."

"Stop being so desperate, Spencer. A flea-bitten blind raccoon could look at this place and tell me that."

"You know a talking raccoon?" Shawn bit back a yelp when Lassiter began to pull Shawn out of the room.

Juliet's hand on the Head Detective's arm stopped him, "Let him finish, Carlton. Honestly, we don't have much to go on. Whatever Shawn has to say may be of great significance to us."

Shawn was begrudgingly let go and shoved back to the centre of the room. Lassiter growled, "Your spirits better come up with something better in the next five minutes or I'll personally escort you out of the building."

"The proof is in the detail." Shawn waved his arms around wildly. "Not only is the detail out of place but it's also on something royal and mouldy."  
Lassiter narrowed his eyes, "This takes the cake—"

"The crown moulding!" Juliet gasped, interrupting Lassiter's newest lecture before it even started. "Not only is it new-looking; it's also the only thing that's intricately detailed."

The pseudo psychic walked over to one wall where he could see a slight gap between the crowning and the ceiling. He pulled up an odd-looking plastic chair and stood on it. It took some tugging on his part but the crowning came off the wall to reveal a rather large hole between the ceiling and the wall.

"Holy mother of Clint Eastwood," Lassiter exclaimed.

A large sniper's rifle and tripod were stashed in the hole. Unfortunately, Shawn didn't need Gus' Super Smeller to tell that the criminal had covered all his bases – he could smell the bleach in the air with his own nose just fine. That meant the police were unlikely to find genetic evidence on the weapon.

He jumped off the chair to let CSUs through to retrieve the gun and walked over to his African American friend. Shawn raised his fist and Gus smiled and bumped it with his own.

"Dude, I was getting really worried for a second there."

"You've been worried since the elevator stopped, Gus," Shawn retorted quickly.

One of the CSUs yelped when, right after they had removed the gun and tripod, a medium sized duffel bag tumbled out of the hole. Because it was partially unzipped, its contents spilled out all over the floor.

"So that's how he managed to disappear," Juliet said.

All the officers in the room looked at each other with shock on their faces. Scattered on the floor were multiple uniforms for all sorts of jobs – one of which happened to be an official police uniform. This was the break they were looking for but not the one that they particularly wanted. From now on, identity checks were probably going to have to be a lot more thorough.

That was when Agent Ewing decided that he would make his presence known. Flanked on either side of him were two tall, burly men: a big African-American man and a hulk-sized red-head.

"Impressive. The proof iwas/i in the detail," Ewing said. "It's no wonder you managed to catch our fraudulent Psychic the last time we worked together. Due to the tenacity of the shooter in trying to kill you, I think it is safe to assume that he fears your abilities as well."

"What are you implying?" Juliet asked suspiciously.

"I'm implying that Shawn needs protection," Ewing replied and gestured to the two men beside him.


	11. Shawn's shadows are shoddy chauffeurs

To say that Shawn was unhappy with his current circumstances would have been the understatement of the century. Lassiter had personally escorted him away from the crime scene right after he had given them the break that they needed. He was now awkwardly sitting at his desk in the Psych office doing anything he could to ignore the presence of his burly bodyguards.

Shawn already felt confined – despite the fact that he'd only had bodyguards for the last couple of hours. He was a free spirit, dammit! He catapulted his chair backwards as he suddenly stood up.

"Gus, we're going to the station!" Shawn announced.

Gus had just opened his mouth to protest the forceful decision Shawn made on his behalf when he noticed Shawn tilt his head ever so slightly towards the guards. He narrowed his eyes, "This better not be a plan to ditch the guards, dude. As annoying as they are, they're here for your own protection."

In response to the comment, the guards, who were standing about 5 feet to his left, moved so they flanked him on both sides. "Actually, I thought that if we went to the station filled with cops and guns, the guards might BACK OFF!"

The guards took a half a step backwards and the fake psychic gave Gus a pointed look. His friend looked a little startled by his sudden shout but shook it off and grabbed his car keys. "You better not be pulling my leg, Shawn."

"I'm calling shotgun," Shawn said happily, bouncing out the door towards Gus' car. His bodyguards were careful to stay within three feet of him at all times.

"Hell, no. I can't have a walking target in my company car. You're riding with your new friends."

"Please tell me you're not on the Spencer revenge bandwagon too," Shawn gasped. He pouted and put on his best set of puppy-dog eyes. "It's me buddy, your best friend since kindergarten. We don't do revenge. We deal with our issues by downing pineapple smoothies and eating jerk chicken."  
Gus smirked and quickly got into his car and locked the doors so Shawn couldn't follow him in. The pharmaceutical salesman put on his seatbelt and gave a mock-wave before pulling out of the carpark next to their office.

Shawn stared into the distance for a couple of minutes before turning to his bodyguards. "Is there any way that we can beat his smug ass to the station?"

The two guards looked at each other before giving him a blank stare. Shawn was about to tell them to forget it when he was pulled into the backseat of their car. As the African American man drove wildly, the ginger-haired man pulled out a cell phone and typed in a message.

From where he was sitting, Shawn couldn't make out what they were trying to do. All he knew was that, in exactly twenty minutes, they had made it to the station and he was feeling a little woozy from the erratic driving. Despite the impressive time, he still doubted that they would have beaten Gus.

'Don't these guys know how to take a joke?' he thought as he tumbled out of the car and onto the ground. He managed to get up and walk unsteadily to the Station's front steps where he sat down and waited until his heart rate slowed back down to a normal speed.

He was so absorbed in calming himself down that he didn't notice until the very last moment that a bright, blue car had just pulled into the parking lot. A door slammed and his friend stomped towards him and the bodyguards flanking him. Surprisingly, they ihad/i beaten Gus.

Gus irritated voice yelled out, "How the heck did you get here before me, Shawn!?"

Shawn smiled knowingly and, deciding to take advantage of the situation, faked a yawn. He slowly got up and stretched himself out before walking up the stairs and into the station. As he walked up, he heard his friend mumble something about a conspiracy between traffic lights and pedestrians at crossings.

When he entered the police station, Shawn was surprised to see that they had definitely implemented a more rigid I.D. checking regime at the door. In fact, when officers patted the two consultants down before entering, Shawn began to regret his decision to escape to the station.  
Lassiter walked up to them and smirked, "I'm so sorry, all visitor's without official I.D. will have to be thoroughly searched before entering the precinct."

"You're not sorry at all, Lassielass," Shawn responded. "I bet you were looking forward to mocking us about this."

"A little," the man admitted unabashedly.

The men walked into the precinct to where Ewing and Juliet were standing next to a data projector and discussing something. Nearby, there were some computer nerds typing rapidly into their computers.

"What's up?" Shawn asked the pair.

Jules smiled at her boyfriend and gestured to the graphs that were being projected in front of them. "We're trying to find a pattern to The Broker's victims but so far none of the connections we could think of have garnered anything. If you could think of anything we've missed, feel free to pass it on to our programmers."

"What have you got so far?" a dark-suited, blonde-haired woman and a brunette man that Shawn had never seen before planted themselves next to Ewing.

"We've tried sequencing the Date of Death of the victims, the times they may have been turned, when they joined and left the academy… but we still don't have any conclusive findings. It was naïve to think that adding new information to the mix would change anything."

"Excuse me, but who are they?" Shawn cut in.

"My team," Ewing explained. "Steve and Mandy will be the other half of your protective detail; they'll be taking the night shift. You'll see them in a couple of hours when they take over from Randy and Burt."

Shawn filed this information in his head but for the most part decided that it was inconsequential to the case at hand. He turned to the graphs and studied them for a second. There was something to this case that just didn't add up but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Since desperate times called for desperate measures, Shawn closed his eyes and brought his hands to his head. He could almost hear his father telling him to i'close his eyes and focus'/i.

"Are you getting a vision, Shawn?" he heard his girlfriend ask.

He 'shhed' her as he continued to picture all the elements of the case at hand. Eventually, the pieces of the puzzle began to put themselves together in his mind.

"Stop with the psychic charade already," he heard Lassiter grumble.

"Shh, I'm thinking."

"iThinking?/i" Lassiter repeated.

Shawn inwardly cursed himself before covering for himself, "Yeah. The spirits are being a lot more cryptic lately but that's not the point… I've found the hidden connection between all the victims."


	12. Deductive psychicing

"Fine, I'll bite," Lassiter groaned. "What's the connection, Spencer?"

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and the words tumbled out of his mouth at the same time as his breath, "They're connected by rank."

"What are you talking about? We have 37 high ranking officers and 23 rookies on this list," The female Ewing referred to as Mandy scoffed. "There's no connection there."

"Even if you were right," the other guy, Steve, interrupted, "I don't think that information would be pertinent to finding our killer. I'm starting to believe that this guy is a certifiable genius. He'd make sure that there were no connections."

Shawn frowned as he realised that he should have been grateful for his current protective detail – at least they didn't talk. Shawn rolled his eyes at the pair's immediate dismissal of his 'vision'. If they had given him a chance to explain why he mentioned their ranks, they would understand.

Lassiter and Juliet nodded in agreement with Steve and went back to discussing the graphs in front of them. They seemed to be good at ignoring Shawn's visions when they seemed to be too ridiculous.

Gus elbowed him and hissed, "What kind of vision was that?"

Shawn gave him a look that distinctly said, 'Don't count me out just yet, buddy'. Then, as if to prove it, he snuck over to the computer geeks and whispered something to them. Ewing's team and the two SBPD detectives didn't seem to notice the exchange because they were still chatting amongst themselves.

After a few minutes, Shawn sidled back up to his partner-in-crime and smirked. "Wait for iiiit…."

Suddenly, the projector changed slides to a completely different timeline. Lassiter, Juliet, Ewing and his team all turned to look at Shawn in shock. He grinned, "That's how your timeline is supposed to look."

"H-how?" Steve interrupted. "I was so sure—"

Lassiter gave him a pat on the back, "Welcome to my world."

On the screen, at the very top, 33 high-ranking officers were put in chronological order based on when they were turned. Underneath each officer, the remaining high-ranking officers and rookies were listed below the high-ranking officer that they worked with. Funnily enough, their deaths were all subsequent to the high-ranking officer's turning.

Shawn brought his hand up to his head, "I now understand why my visions have felt so cloudy and conflicted. That's because the spirits were trying to tell me that the information in this case won't mesh for a reason. There are two things the spiritual plane found odd about The Broker: One, he needed to use an indirect warning when he killed. Two, he killed Jerry Carp prior to his being incarcerated but neglected to do the same with Jack Atwater."

"I still don't get it," Juliet frowned. "The rookies were killed in the same way as the higher-ups. There's nothing to distinguish any differences between the deaths. How'd you realise that they weren't killed by The Broker?"

"I had massive juju vibes," Shawn explained. He winced and continued, "Indirect… no contact… The Broker didn't have contact with all his dirty cops – hence the indirect messages whenever he killed. In order to confuse the police, he got his underlings to kill any traitors they worked with in a similar way."

"Oh, great," Mandy cut in. "Now I'm going to have to profile our killer again. It's a good thing I'm already going to be up all night."

As everyone began to collect all their belongings to vacate the area, Shawn interrupted. "There's one more thing I have to say before we all head off to do our respective investigating."

"Is it relevant?" Lassiter asked. "Every time you've had 'one more thing to say' in the past it has been a complete waste of time. Like that time with the caterer on the set of 'Explosion Gigantesca de Romance'."

"The caterer ended up being the murderer, Carlton."

Lassiter shrugged and turned back to Shawn, "Anyway, is this relevant?"

"Very," Shawn replied in a serious tone. He sighed, "The 33 deaths I've attributed to The Broker correspond with the 33 victims who were tortured."

Juliet turned as white as a sheet and even Ewing looked a little spooked. Shawn hated to do this to them – especially Juliet – but it would have come out soon enough. Better to tell them now than to find out when the revised profile was done.

Shawn could hear Gus gulp and sidle away from him, "Damn, we really do have a psycho on our hands."

The silence was broken when the Chief popped her head out of the office and told them to get back to work. She also asked Ewing to brief her on any new information they had attained. Suddenly, everyone began to continue with their initial task of collecting up their belongings and vacating the area.

While everyone was doing this, Gus stealthily pulled Shawn to the side. He looked around to see if they were within earshot of any officers or guards. When he deemed it safe, he glared at his partner.

"What?" Shawn said.

"This case is getting to you, Shawn," Gus began. "I can tell."

Shawn waved him off with a grin, "What are you talking about, dude? I'm the calmest walking target you've ever seen."

"You're slipping, buddy," Gus said. "You barely covered for the 'I'm thinking' thing and your vision just now was dangerously close to being called 'deductive reasoning'."

"Dude, what are you on? I mentioned the spirits a few times and even went on about juju vibes."

"Shawn, for the first time in forever I could actually follow your reasoning. You even told us what clues you used to get to your conclusions instead of just telling us the answers like you usually do."

Shawn looked around the station in order to avoid Gus' eyes. His friend was right; this case was getting to him. Despite his breakthrough just now, they were still far from finding any substantial evidence as to the real identity of the shooter.

"You're right, Gus," he admitted and finally turned to look him in the eyes.

The pharmaceutical salesman looked a bit taken aback at his admission because it seemed so out-of-character for him. In fact, the only other times Shawn had been like this was during the Yin/Yang fiasco.

"Let's get dinner and visit your Dad," Gus suggested. "Maybe he can give us the shove in the right direction that we need."

"So long as we stop by for some pineapple smoothies on the way," Shawn said. "I haven't had one in nearly three days!"

"You know that's right."


	13. Shawn speaks mumble too

Shawn and Gus ditched their guards at the door of Henry's hospital room and entered while noisily slurping their smoothies. The man they had come to visit was busy nibbling on the end of a pen as he tried to think of the next number he could put down on his sudoku puzzle.

"There's a three in the top right corner," Shawn pointed out to his Dad as he peered at the puzzle.

"I don't need your help, kid," Henry frowned.

Shawn grinned and spun a chair around so the back was facing his Dad. He sat down and drummed on the chair with his fingers. "Yeah, but I need yours."

Gus stepped forward and handed Henry a printout of the timeline Shawn had constructed at the police station. Henry frowned as he looked it over critically. When he was done, he looked up and arched an eyebrow at his son and his friend.

"Shawn thought it was strange that The Broker went after Carp but not Atwater," Gus explained. "Add the whole indirect message thing to that and you get that timeline."

Shawn looked a little taken aback when Henry levelled a harsh glare in his direction, "What are you glaring at me for? I found us something to work with."

"You're slipping, Shawn."

"How the hell did you pick up on that within the five minutes we've been in here?" Shawn asked incredulously. He turned to Gus, "You called him, didn't you?"

"You know damn well that I couldn't have. I was with you this whole time!"

The two consultants stared each other down trying to get the other to back down. Before they could find out who that would be, they were interrupted by Henry clearing his throat. "When Gus can fill me in on the inconsistencies that you based your conclusions on, it's pretty obvious that you're slipping."

Gus nodded in agreement and gave Shawn a look that could be translated as 'if you didn't believe me before, you will now'. Shawn just scowled at being caught out so easily by his Dad. He felt like he was 9 again, getting caught in the middle of one of his 'ridiculous schemes'. Sometimes he forgot how observant his father really was.

"Since Gus has already lectured me on this topic, can we just get to the part where you give me cryptic advice that somehow leads to another break in the case?"

"That's not how it works, Shawn," Henry answered, "the answers are always in front of you. All I do is remind you of that particular fact... and don't give me crap about how you've heard it both ways."

"But I have heard it both ways!"

"Shawn," Gus warned his friend.

"Ok, fine, whatever. Just help me out already, pops." Shawn conjured up his best puppy dog look despite knowing that it never affected his dear father. The eye roll wasn't a necessary response, in Shawn's opinion.

Henry sighed, "Close your eyes, son. What can you tell me about The Broker's lackeys?"

"You mean the 33 dirty cops that killed their traitorous subordinates?" Shawn took Henry's nod as confirmation before closing his eyes. "All 33 were incapacitated in some way before being tortured to death. According to the case files, most of them were shot in the leg first."

"Why would he torture them?"

"I dunno. He's violent? Or, they could have been withholding information?" Shawn asked. He heard a noncommittal grunt in response. "Okay, if that's the case, then what do these guys have that The Broker would want? I know I'm missing something here."

As Shawn mulled over the answer, he could hear Gus shuffling towards a seat on the other side of the room. The rustle of paper and a scribbling sound alerted him to the fact that his father had returned his attention to his sudoku.

"Carp!" Shawn suddenly groaned loudly.

"I'm pretty sure you meant to say 'crap' just then, dude," Gus said.

"As much as that sentiment applies, Gus, I really did mean 'Carp'. He's the 34th dirty cop and the odd one out." Shawn opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "No wonder I wasn't getting anything. I forgot to include him on the timeline."

Henry looked up at his son, "Now that you have, what does it tell you?"

"It tells me that my head hurts from thinking too much," Shawn buried his head in his arms dramatically.

Despite the overacting, Shawn wasn't lying about the niggling headache that was becoming more prevalent as time went by. Due to the serious nature of the case, he had been equally serious in thinking everything through instead of making his usual wild accusations. He had tried to hide the fact that he was seriously attacking this case but thanks to Gus and his father he knew he had been unsuccessful to a certain degree.

"Fair enough," his father replied.

Shawn looked up in shock, "Fair enough? I was fully expecting you to tell me to harden up and quit making such a fuss."

"Shawn, if you haven't noticed, all the times I've said that to you in the past were warranted."

Shawn scoffed, "What about that time when I had chicken pox and you tried to force me into doing manual labour?"

"I remember that," Gus interrupted. "You were so gutted afterwards when you couldn't convince your Dad to haul your TV set up to your room so you wouldn't have to walk downstairs with all your toys and blankets."

"That's not all," Henry added. "He tried to 'summon my services' with a bell. Constantly."

Shawn growled in frustration, "If you two are done picking apart my defence, can you answer my original question, Dad?"

"Which was?"

"Why're you letting me off so easily?"

Henry smiled, "Kid, it's been a long day and I know you haven't had much sleep. Those hospital chairs don't look that comfortable. Go spend some time with Detective O'Hara and get some sleep. There's a ring missing from my desk drawer that tells me how serious you are about her."

Shawn buried his face in his arms once again - except, this time, it was in embarrassment. He mumbled something into his arms.

"I thought you said you couldn't speak mumble, kid? You're gonna have to speak up."

Shawn lifted up his head ever so slightly, "I said something along the lines of 'kill me now'."

"Dude, considering you have a serial killer after you," Gus began, "I don't think you should be joking about dying right now."

Shawn just groaned and buried his head even deeper into his arms.


	14. His other half

Shawn quickly poked his head out the door and looked left and right. 'Good,' he thought, 'no guards'.

For once, Shawn decided to take his father's advice without a fuss. In his defence, his dad had never suggested taking the evening off and spending it with his lovely girlfriend before. The only downside to the advice was the paranoid hovering of his protection detail. He needed his personal space.  
Somehow, he managed to make it halfway down the hall before his burly shadows suddenly appeared at his side. He pulled a face before turning to them and exclaiming loudly, "Woah, I had almost forgotten about you two!"

Gus walked up to him and raised an eyebrow, "The way you just tried to sneak out of the door says otherwise."

"Gus…" Shawn whined. "Don't ruin my escape plans by telling them! Now I'll never get away with it."

His friend snorted, "Like that would ever happen anyway."

"Well, now you'll never know," Shawn said grumpily. He grabbed his arm, "Come on buddy, the Blueberry awaits."

Shawn headed off and stopped when he realised his friend was rooted to the ground. He looked over his shoulder to see Gus wringing his hands and avoiding his gaze. The pharmaceutical salesman cleared his throat, "About that…"

Shawn sighed and turned back around, "Gus, I've told you, your company car will be fine—"

"No, it's not that," Gus interrupted. "You know that forensics girl I was talking to when you stole my car? Yeah, well, I've kind of got a date. Like soon. Real soon."

The pseudo psychic looked surprised at first but his face quickly burst into a smile. He beamed at his best bud and held out a fist. Gus' top lip twitched a little before he too grinned widely and bumped it with his own fist.

"That's awesome, man. I wish you luck." Shawn said as he rocked back and forth on his heels. The grin on his face said it all – he was truly happy for his friend. It was about time his bud got some action.

"Sorry, dude but this means that you're going to have to find your own way to Juliet's house."

"Don't worry, I'll just ask—" Shawn surreptitiously looked over his shoulder at his bodyguards. He paused as he realised just what that entailed, "Oh, great, I'm going to have to drive with ithem/i."

"What's wrong with that?"

Shawn shuddered and turned a little green, "Did you ever wonder ihow/i I managed to beat you to the station earlier today?"

A look of contemplation crossed Gus' face and, when the implications hit him, he winced, "Their driving is that bad?"

Shawn shrugged and waved his friend off. "Nevermind, it should be fine. Technically, they were just doing what I asked them to do at the time."  
"And that was…?"

"To beat you to the station," Shawn answered. "I'm sure that they drive normally when they aren't racing to get to places."

Gus shrugged and accepted his answer. He gave his friend a pat on the back and began walking to the door. Shawn hesitantly shuffled after him.  
As they walked out the building, Gus waved goodbye and headed to his car. Shawn stood at the doorway with his two guards and watched as his friend drove off down the road. He sighed and turned to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

"Can we take a leisurely, slow, and I mean ireally/i slow, drive to my girlfriend's house?" he pleaded with them.

Just like the last time he had requested a ride with the two of them, they looked at each other blankly for a second before pushing him into the backseat of their car and driving off. Unlike last time though, his request hadn't seemed to be heeded. Maybe, their 'recklessly fast driving' was the only way they could drive.

As they rounded a particularly sharp corner, Shawn swore he could see his life flashing before his eyes. Well, it was more like the events of the last few days flashing before his eyes but, you know, he'd heard it both ways. His Dad was right; he really did need a break from the case.

As they, quite literally, slid to a stop in front of Juliet's house, Shawn shakily opened the car door and staggered up to her doorstep. When the porch light suddenly turned on, it did nothing to help his disorientation. In fact, the blinding light made it even worse and he found himself tripping over a newspaper and landing hard against the door.

When the door inched open, he nearly fell inside but was caught by some soft hands instead. "Are you drunk?"

"Not at all," Shawn answered truthfully. His girlfriend looked unconvinced. "But I am ivery/i carsick. You don't mind if I use your bathroom for a second?"

He didn't give her much time to answer before he stumbled past her and into the bathroom where he immediately walked over to the sink. He gripped it tightly with both hands, using it to hold himself up. When he was sure he could stand steadily, he turned the tap on and splashed some cold water on his face.

For the first time in the last two days, Shawn caught a glimpse of how he looked – his hair was terrible and his signature stubble was starting to resemble a full grown beard. He straightened himself out a little bit before heading to the living room where Juliet was probably waiting for him.

When he entered the living room, Shawn was surprised to see Juliet sitting with the man and the woman he had seen at the station. It took him a second to remember that they were the other half of his protective detail. "Oh, hello. Steve and Mandy, right?"

The pair nodded before the woman opened her mouth to speak. "Randy and Burt just left. It's our shift to watch you. I hope you don't mind but Steve will be on point while I finish up the revised criminal profile."

Shawn shook his head and awkwardly stood around in the doorway. He had wanted Juliet to himself but now that seemed like it wasn't in the cards. Thankfully, Juliet sensed this and brushed herself off as she stood up.

"Excuse me," Juliet said politely. "Is it alright if I just have a word with Shawn? Privately, if possible."

"Not at all," Steve responded.

Juliet grabbed a hold of Shawn's hand as she walked past and tugged on it lightly. She led him to her bedroom and closed the door with a soft click behind them.


	15. Impressed is a shade of pink

Shawn looked around with wide eyes at the number of papers strewn throughout Jules' room. There were folders on the bed and post-its on the walls. Juliet must have been working overtime at home to make more headway on the case.

"When Gus and I were leaving the station, I'm pretty sure I heard the Chief say you were to take this evening off and relax."

"This is how I relax," Juliet responded.

Shawn raised an eyebrow at her, "Don't be an artificial sweetener, Jules. This is not how you usually relax. On top of all the stuff that's happened today, you were shot—"

"Grazed," she corrected.

"You were shot," Shawn reiterated. "You should be drinking champagne in a bubble bath and watching reruns of 'Explosion Gigantesca de Romance'. There's this guy called Chad that I know you'll love."

Juliet gave a sad smile, "Look, while I recognise how hard you're trying to be sweet, there's no way I can relax until this guy is safely behind bars. I know it's not Yin this time but I hate being strung around by a notorious killer. That's why I have to do this."

Shawn examined her face for any hint of uncertainty in her features but couldn't find any. She really meant what she had just said. Juliet was going to stop at nothing to get this despicable killer.

"I understand, Jules," Shawn replied. He sighed, "But that doesn't mean that I like it. Trust me; I'd much rather you didn't wear yourself out. We've made a lot of progress already."

Juliet sunk down onto the edge of her bed, "A part of me knows that, Shawn. Unfortunately, it's really hard to convince myself of that fact."

Shawn rocked on his heels as he thought of something to say to break the awkward silence that followed her confession. "So… What ihave/i you figured out?"

"Not much," Juliet said. "Just a hunch. That's part of the reason why I pulled you in here; I wanted to know if you have had any more visions since I saw you last."

Shawn gave a sly smile, "I'll only tell you if you tell me what you found out first."

Juliet laughed and rolled her eyes, "Fine. We'll do this your way. Just give me a sec."

As Juliet twisted around to gather up some papers, Shawn took this as an opportunity to sit down next to her on the bed. She found what she was looking for and twisted around so that she was facing Shawn.

"I was looking at this…" Juliet pointed at the folder McNab was holding when Shawn had the sinking realisation that Carp was also a dirty cop. She continued, "..when I remembered what you said earlier about the spirits finding the whole Atwater and Carp thing strange. According to your timeline, The Broker has only one direct contact at the police station at a time."

"Are you insinuating that Carp must've been that contact?"

Jules nodded, "So I was thinking: If I were The Broker I would be looking for any connections between myself and my contacts. So far, this is the only thing we've found that ties Carp to any illegal activities that could have possibly involved The Broker. Even if Carp had not shot your father, from this, we would have realised he was dirty eventually. Therefore…"

"The Broker had access to this file," Shawn gasped. "That's the only way he could have known Carp was going to be connected to him."

"Shawn, I appreciate your enthusiasm but it's kind of freaky how you know exactly what I'm going to say before I say it."

Shawn winced, "Sorry, it's a gift."

Juliet looked him over. When she was convinced that he was no longer using his abilities to 'read' her, she continued. "Anyway, this means that we're looking for people who have the clearance to view these files. I'm just a little hesitant to pass on this information. The last thing we need right now is Internal Affairs fighting us and the FBI for control."

Shawn gaped at his girlfriend – she had been working hard. Juliet noticed his staring and turned away as her cheeks turned a bright pink. "Jules, colour me impressed."

After she deposited the file back on the bed behind her, Juliet took a deep breath and turned to him. "It's your turn to tell me what the spirits have imparted to you."

The way she had full confidence in his 'psychic' abilities made his heart sink into his chest. He wanted to tell her how he really did what he did but he knew this wasn't the right time. He really didn't want to throw a spanner in the works during such a serious case.

"All I've got is a puzzle piece that I can't place: Carp," Shawn said. "He's an odd piece that doesn't fit with what we've got so far. The spirits keep asking me: Why wasn't he tortured by The Broker? He tortured all 33 cops he dealt with before."

Juliet furrowed her brow in thought and leaned back on her hands. After a moment of contemplation she sat forward and sighed, "I can't think of anything right now."

"Being tired is messing with my third eye so I'm also drawing a blank. The spirits need a break, too."

"I guess we're going to have to wait for that profile. Maybe it might give us the insight we need."

"I don't know about you, but I don't feel like wasting the next few hours waiting up for that lady, Mandy, to finish it. We should take this opportunity to catch some zees. In the morning, our heads will be much clearer."

"I guess you're right, Shawn," Juliet conceded. "I'd prefer to wait up for the profile but even I can't see the merit in doing nothing until then. It might not even garner anything new for us anyway."

Shawn nodded, "There is always that possibility."

"You clear the bed," Juliet yawned. "I will inform our bodyguards that we'll see them again in the morning. Set an alarm for 6 in the morning."

"Six!"

"Even if you don't get up at that time, I will," Juliet replied. "The profile should be done by then and I want to head in to the station early to see if there are any new developments from Ewing or Carlton."

She gave him a pat on the shoulder and got up off the bed and headed over to the door. Shawn looked around at the scattered files and documents littering the room. He hated tidying up. Even so, he did as Juliet said and gathered everything together into one large pile. He put this on her dresser and stripped down to his boxers and undershirt.

Shawn climbed into the bed and fully intended to wait for Juliet to come back. As soon as his head hit the pillow though, he was out like a light. In fact, he hadn't even registered Juliet turning off the lights and snuggling into his side as she joined him.


	16. Two shots equal one shot

The next morning, Shawn awoke to a loud crash. He opened his blurry eyes and saw Juliet on the floor struggling to get her tights on. The alarm clock on her side-table blinked the time at him. It was 7.30 in the morning.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked.

Juliet glared at him, "I would've been up even earlier if you had set the alarm for 6.00 like I had asked."

Shawn blinked and sat up slowly. When his brain finally caught up to him, he groaned. "God, I thought the whole Broker thing was a nightmare."

"Well, anyway, Mandy has finished the profile and has offered to drop me off at the station on her way to her hotel. If you can get ready in the next five minutes you are welcomed to join us."

"Nah, I'll make my way over there in my own time," Shawn replied and fell back onto the bed. "I might call Gus and get something to eat first."

"Suit yourself," Juliet replied as she dug under the bed for her shoes.

Unfortunately, by now Shawn was wide awake and could no longer sleep. As he lay in the bed, he let his eyes rove around the room. They landed on the pile of paperwork on Juliet's dresser and he immediately thought back to their conversation the night before.

He frowned, "Jules?"

"Yes, Shawn?"

"Are you going to tell the Chief your suspicions?" Shawn asked. He remembered her telling him that she was hesitant but that didn't mean she wasn't going to tell her.

"Of course I am," she replied. "I'd much rather have Internal Affairs fighting for control than to suffer the consequences of not telling the chief. Someone could get seriously hurt because of this guy if I don't. He's already proved himself as a force to be reckoned with."

Somehow, Shawn knew that he was the particular someone she was worried about. She just wouldn't admit it out loud. The fear in her eyes as she looked at him said it all. If The Broker was at the station, nowhere was safe for him to go.

Juliet got up and kissed him on the forehead. "See you later."

He continued to lie in the bed even after he heard the jingling of keys and the front door slam. For some reason, he really didn't want to get up and face the day. Unlike Jules, he wasn't the type to confront his problems face on. In fact, he'd rather avoid them and/or run away. That was how he'd done it up to this point.

After deciding to take a page out of Juliet's book, he got out of bed and pulled out a change of clothes from the bottom drawer of Juliet's dresser. First things first: a shower and breakfast. He could think through some possible mole suspects later.

As he headed over to the bathroom, he waved to Steve, Randy and Burt who were seated in Juliet's living room and having a heated conversation. He hadn't realised that Randy and Burt could talk since they had mostly given him blank looks so far.

Shawn noted that the agents were probably as stressed as Juliet if they were arguing like that. Since he wasn't the type to dwell on trivial things too long, he shrugged it off and entered the shower.

After a few renditions of 80s classics were belted out, Shawn stepped out of the shower and towelled down before changing. Just as he was about to put on the last of his clothing...

Bang! Bang!

He jumped at the two shots that rang out from nearby. With a sinking feeling, Shawn realised that he was trapped. The only window in the bathroom was about a metre above the ground and barely wide enough for even a child to fit through.

Just as he was thinking up a panicked solution to his problem, he heard a rap on the door. For a brief second, his heart stopped and he backed away from the door as far as he could.

"Shawn," he heard Steve call out. "Don't worry, we contained the intruders. When you're decent, I'd appreciate it if you come out. The faster, the better; this place isn't safe for you anymore."

Shawn let out the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. The intruders couldn't have picked a worse time to attack. This was probably the worst room he could have been stuck in - he couldn't have made a quick escape from here. It was almost as if it had been planned.

Wait! What if it had been planned? The heated argument... only hearing two shots... the perfect timing. That was just too much of a coincidence for him to overlook.

"Shawn, buddy," the man continued. "You haven't passed out on me, have you?"

"Um, no. I'm fine," he croaked out.

He could be over-analysing this. Maybe there really were intruders that had to be dealt with? Unfortunately, the fact that he only heard two shots cemented the idea that this was too good to be true. If there were intruders, there would have been multiple shots fired from multiple weapons - it didn't add up.

"Hey, man," Shawn desperately tried to sound normal. He grabbed the toothpaste and spread it on his fingers. "Can you fetch me a towel from the closet in Jules room? I can't believe I forgot to bring one. Imagine my embarrassment if I'd been attacked in this state."

In reality, Jules kept her towels in the bathroom so he never had to worry about fetching one. He just needed an excuse to get the guy away from the door so that he could make a break for it. After leaving a message should he not succeed, that is.

"Sure thing," the man replied.

Shawn quickly finished writing Steve's name in small writing on the bottom edge of the mirror. He had deliberately placed it there so that if anything went wrong, it was less likely to be noticed by the man in question.

He walked up to the door and put his ear against it just in case. When he couldn't hear anything, he assumed that the coast was clear.

"It's now or never," Shawn told himself as he got ready to turn the door handle and run. His wellbeing depended on him getting away unscathed so he better make it count.

'Ready? Go.'


	17. The irony is strong in this one

Right after Shawn flung open the door and bolted forward, he knew he had made a grave mistake. Steve was standing there waiting; anticipating his escape. With a raise of an eyebrow and a swift punch, Shawn was knocked down onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Shawn sat up slowly and rubbed at his smarting jaw.

"Ow! That hurt," Shawn groaned.

"That's what you get when you try to oppose me," the FBI agent snarled. "If I hadn't scoped out the bathroom earlier, I would have fallen for that."  
Shawn grimaced and looked up at the man, "You know what? Why don't we just redo the whole thing? I'm sure I can come up with something way better than forgetting my towel."

"It doesn't work that way, ipsychic/i," Steve inched closer to Shawn. The movement caused his target to shuffle backwards. The man grasped the edge of Shawn's collar in his fist, "Those spirits of yours warned you about me. You just didn't pay attention. If you had, all of this could have been avoided."

As the man's grip on his shirt increased, Shawn hissed as his collar tightened around his neck. "Look, man. I honestly didn't get any messages from the spirits about you until just now. I'm still pretty clueless about this whole thing. All I know is that you just shot my bodyguards—"

"Protection detail," Steve corrected.

"Does it really matter?!" Shawn snapped.

Steve chuckled softly, "You tell me, Mr. 'The proof is in the detail'." He pulled Shawn towards him, "Or did you forget that little tidbit from earlier?"

Shawn's eyes widened as he finally understood what Steve meant by the spirits warning him. Since he was only pretending to be a psychic the irony of accidentally making an accurate prediction was not lost on him. He would have laughed out loud if he wasn't in such a precarious situation.

"Ah, I see. You finally understand. That's good," the dirty FBI agent purred. "Imagine my surprise when I heard you say that right after I managed to secure a spot on your protection detail! I thought I was done for."

That was when Shawn's panicked brain finally managed to put two and two together. "You're… the Broker?"

The lanky man grinned evilly. He lowered his voice and moved so his mouth was hovering next to Shawn's ear, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"W-wait! When we were all trapped in that elevator; Jules said The Broker was scared off by…" Shawn trailed off and shut his eyes in resignation. He winced, "That was a lie, wasn't it? You just pretended that you scared him off when you were there the whole time sabotaging us."

"Even though I take pleasure in hearing you figure it all out, I have a job to do and little to no time to do it in because of the alibi I've set up. I'm sure you understand," Steve said. He leant back until he was on his haunches and began to reach behind him.

That was when Shawn flashed on the large bulge he had seen underneath the man's jacket the day before. If the FBI agent was going to pull a gun on him, it was with the intent to kill.

Since this guy obviously wanted him dead, he really had nothing to lose. So, before Steve could pull out his gun, Shawn kicked out at the man and disentangled his shirt from the man's fist. Thankfully, he had managed to catch the guy off-balance. He took this as an opportunity to rush towards the door.

Once again, luck wasn't on his side. Shawn was painfully tackled against Juliet's towel rail before being hauled onto his feet. He instantly retaliated by shoving the man away and grabbing the nearest object he could find – which just happened to be a tube of toothpaste. Why he always ended up grabbing the worst things to be used as weapons, he had no idea.

"I've got toothpaste and I'm not afraid to use it!" Shawn declared with faux confidence and squeezed the tube in his hands as hard as he could. All that did was get toothpaste all over his hands and on the floor.

Somehow, Steve had already seemed to recover from Shawn's previous retaliation. As soon as he spotted the clenched fists and the crazed look in the man's eyes, Shawn brought his arms up in a defensive position to cover his head. In the end, it offered little protection from the hard punches Steve ended up throwing his way.

With every hit taken, Shawn was pushed back against the hard lacquer of the sink. The edge dug into his back painfully so he tried to shift a little to the right where he could see the door. Hopefully, he could try to make another break for it.

The other man seemed to sense this and decided to change up his routine a little. Steve kneed him in his right side so that Shawn was forced to stumble to his left away from the door. When the FBI agent followed him, however, he wasn't intending on slipping on the toothpaste Shawn had managed to get all over the ground.

"You stupid son of a—"

Shawn heard the exclamation but, because he was gripping his side, hadn't connected it with the toothpaste from earlier. That meant he was completely blind-sided by the large weight that landed upon him.

iCrack!/i

The fake psychic's head bounced off the edge of the bathtub and he literally had to blink away the bright lights flickering on the edge of his vision. He immediately tried to push back his assailant but couldn't get his body to cooperate as fast as he would have liked. Unfortunately, the FBI agent didn't seem to have the same problem as he did and immediately decided to wrap his hands around the police consultant's neck.

As he was slowly being choked to death, a loud ringing sound filled the air. Since Shawn couldn't recognise the ringtone, he assumed it was Steve's phone. Shawn sincerely hoped that the man would stop and take the call because his vision was beginning to blur. He had just started to claw weakly at Steve's hands, when the dirty agent finally gave in and answered the incessant ringing of his phone – one hand still firmly wrapped around his neck.

"Hello?"

As Steve listened to the other speaker, Shawn tried to make a sound. All he managed to get out was a small strangled sound that he highly doubted could be heard by anyone on the other end of the phone.

An evil smirk stretched out over The Broker's face, "Oh, no, it's not a bad time. You just caught me while I was busy in the bathroom. I'll be at the station as soon as I can."

Right after that, Shawn blacked out.


	18. Gutfeelings at HQ

Juliet O'Hara sat at her desk pouring over a copy of the newest criminal profile on The Broker. She was so immersed in analysing the text that she jumped when a steaming hot mug of coffee was plodded down onto her desk right next to her.

"O'Hara, I just called everyone in after a brief update on your findings."

She blearily looked up at her partner, who was nursing his own cup of coffee – most likely black with an exorbitant amount of sugar. She sighed, "Shawn also contributed."

"I'm still surprised you count his flailing around and making wild accusations as contributing."

"Carlton," she warned.

Lassiter begrudgingly stopped talking and began to sip his coffee instead. He leant against her desk and picked up the file on Jerry Carp. He flipped through the information inside when the Chief opened her door and stalked out.

"Where's Spencer and Guster?" she growled at the pair. She turned to Lassiter, "I thought I told you to call everyone in. We need all available resources to find this guy before Internal Affairs can get a good hold over us."

"Guster said he'll stop by O'Hara's place to pick up Spencer," Lassiter explained.

The Chief frowned angrily and opened her mouth to most likely chastise the pair for not reigning them in earlier. With Henry out of the picture, the responsibility for the two Psych consultants seemed to fall on them. Not that they've ever been able to keep them in line before.

"Hey, everybody," a low voice interrupted.

They all turned to see the pharmaceutical salesman that they had come to know as the other half of Psych. He was munching on a bagel and toting around his large silver pharmaceutical case.

"Thank God!" Lassiter threw his hands in the air. "It's about time you two arrived! Speaking of which, where is Spencer? If he's so much as trying to—"

"Wait? He's not here?" Gus stopped eating and looked confusedly at Lassiter.

"This is just great," Lassiter groaned. "You told me you were going pick him up on the way!"

Gus huffed and crossed his arms, "Don't blame me! I distinctly got a text from Shawn saying that he'd meet me here. As if I'd pass up the opportunity to save gas. The company only subsidises so much."

The Chief sighed and held up her hands, effectively halting any further heated comments from the two men. Karen Vick closed her eyes and shook her head every time Lassiter or Guster so much as made a sound of indignation.

"Look, I'll contact Mr. Spencer's guards," she finally said. "Believe me; I iwill/i be having words with Mr. Spencer about how his tardiness reflects the department. Until then, I expect you to hang tight."

She stalked off into her office and as soon as the door slammed behind her, Juliet could see everybody relax a little. The only person who dared incite her wrath happened to be Shawn. For some reason, he wasn't scared of her like everybody else was. Still, she'd never understood why.

Juliet sighed and looked down at her paper; there was something bothering her but she couldn't put her finger on it. After several frustration-filled attempts at examining the profile she pushed it away and looked up at Lassiter and Gus.

When she noticed that Gus wasn't polishing off his bagel she decided to voice her thoughts. "You also have a bad feeling?"

Juliet felt her stomach drop when Gus reluctantly nodded. If he felt something was wrong, then it must be about Shawn. Ever since Shawn came into her life, she had placed a lot more value in her gut feelings.

"If I find out he's playing around somewhere, I'm going to kill him," she said weakly.

"If anyone gets to kill him, it should be me," Gus shot her down. He gave a proud smile, "I ihave/i known him the longest."

Lassiter snorted into his coffee cup, nearly spilling his drink. It took him a few moments to recover and place his mug down on Juliet's desk. "Like either of you could avoid melting at the sight of his pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes."

Somehow, Lassiter's comment elicited a smile from the pair. The lanky detective didn't seem to notice as he was too busy trying to wipe at the small spots of coffee he spilt on his shirt with the spare handkerchief he kept in his pocket.

"What's so funny?" a new male voice asked.

Juliet's smile faded as she turned to see Ewing and his team come and join their little circle. For some reason, she felt awkward interacting with them beyond their work on the case.

"It's nothing," she said. "We're just waiting around for Shawn."

"He's not here, yet?" Mandy asked incredulously. She spared a glance at the clock on the wall. It was 5 past 10 in the morning.

Gus shook his head in response and sat on the wooden chair next to Juliet's desk. He bunched up his left over bagel in its paper bag and dropped it into the Junior Detective's wastebasket. He let the silver pharmaceutical case he was carting around lie at his feet as he chose to wait silently.  
As the awkward silence hit the two-minute mark, an anxious-looking Chief exited her office in a rush. For some reason, the woman was trying to put on her jacket and check the ammunition in her gun at the same time.

"Chief?" Lassiter spoke.

When the woman didn't immediately speak, O'Hara jumped up and bombarded her with questions, "What's wrong? Is it Shawn? Is he okay? Why are you—"

The woman squeezed her eyes shut as if she was in pain and interjected, "O'Hara!"

Lassiter moved next to his partner and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Juliet was grateful for that because, even though he hadn't said anything, it had grounded her to reality. If he hadn't, she probably would've worked herself into a state imagining what could have happened to her boyfriend.

Chief Karen Vick grimaced, "I couldn't get in touch with Mr. Spencer's bodyguards. In a last ditch effort, I tried calling the landline at O'Hara's place. I managed to get through."

An audible sigh from behind Juliet could be heard. She turned to see Gus releasing the death-grip he must've had on her desk, "T-that's good."

"No, it's not, Mr. Guster," The Chief stated. She focussed her eyes on something in the distance,"There's no easy way to say this..."

"Just give it to us straight, Chief," Lassiter said.

"One of our patrolmen picked up the phone. They were following up on a report they received about the sound of gunshots. They just cleared the property and cordoned off the scene."

"T-the Scene?"

"Two bodies matching the description of Shawn's guards have been found."

A collective gasp sounded from the group.

Juliet grabbed the edge of her partner's sleeve tightly, "And Shawn?"

"We don't know, O'Hara. There's no sign of him. He's just disappeared."


	19. Slowly disappearing

Shawn winced in pain as a coughing fit brought him into the realm of consciousness. As he slowly pushed himself up off of what appeared to be an uncomfortable camp bed, a couple of rough, heavy blankets slid off his frame.

"You lucky," an elderly female woman broke the silence.

The confusion on Shawn's face spoke volumes as he abruptly turned to face her. When she didn't immediately respond, he looked around at his surroundings: he was in a small room with faded brown wallpaper, two small camp beds and a tiny circular window about eleven inches in diameter near the ceiling. In one corner, by the door, there stood a tiny sink and a cracked mirror.

The old lady sat next to him on the springy mattress and reached out to him. He pulled away and shuffled backwards into the corner of the room. For the life of him, he had no idea why he felt so scared of the woman.

"You no concussion but bruising round neck is start appearing," she said in stilted English.

As soon as she mentioned his neck, Shawn's eyes widened as he was pulled into the memory of The Broker's hands putting pressure on his airways. He began to breathe in rapid succession and nearly didn't notice the old lady leaning over and stroking his forehead.

'Why the hell am I alive?' he thought to himself.

"Been long time since I have company," the lady continued. It was almost like she wasn't aware of the panic he was feeling. For some reason, having her talk like this made him feel a bit silly about the whole situation. Not that it was a silly situation.

"W-who…" he rasped out and found himself in another coughing fit. Shawn grimaced in realisation that the barely-there voice had belonged to him.

"My name?" she gestured to herself. When he nodded she answered, "Rosa. Dirty man keep me here to make husband do bad things. Told me to look after you. Used to be nurse."

Shawn started to sigh but winced at the pain that was causing him. Even though he knew the woman meant well, he still felt the need to go and check out the damage for himself. He slowly got up and walked over to the tiny sink and mirror by the door.

The mirror just confirmed what Rosa had said, the bruising was only just starting to appear. If someone saw his neck now, they would have to look twice to see them. Shawn remembered his father complaining about victims claiming to have been strangled. Since the bruises only appear later, it's hard for cops to gauge whether the victims are telling the truth or not.

"T-time…?" Shawn turned and rasped out.

The lady looked down at the battered and worn down watch on her wrist, "Near eleven. You been here about 3 hour."

A small glance out the window at the position of the bright sun confirmed her answer. It was almost directly above them. Since it was around 11 o'clock, he assumed that The Broker – he refused to call him Steve after what happened earlier – was bogged down at the station by now. That left him with some time to find a way out of here.

The first thing he did was try the door. Before he even tried it, he knew his effort would be fruitless but he was trained to look at all the possibilities.

"There no way out," the woman gave him a look of pity.

Shawn ignored her and began sliding his hands along the wallpapered wall. He frowned at the sensation under his fingertips and ripped off a corner of the wallpaper. His suspicions were confirmed, the man had wallpapered over concrete to give the impression that they were in a normal room when in fact, they were probably in a converted basement.

He continued searching every inch of the place before finally giving up. What he wouldn't give to have paper thin walls or an escape hatch. Hell, even a good old fire exit would be helpful.

"I see you're up," The Broker's voice broke through the silence.

Shawn looked over to the little latch on the door that had been slid open to create a little window. The Broker's eyes twinkled a little when he noticed Shawn flinch at his voice.

"The department sent me away to 'rest up'. They've all realised you've disappeared now." He stared long and hard at Shawn before chuckling, "You should have seen their faces. It was priceless!"

Since Shawn was still having trouble talking, he settled on glaring at the man instead. He hated the idea that the man was so close to his friends and they had no idea.

"Tch, you're no fun when you don't talk back," The Broker frowned. "Or, maybe, you ican't/i talk back. Is that it?"

"N-no…" Shawn rasped out.

The FBI agent laughed, "I see that you haven't made it out of our previous scuffle unscathed. That's good. I was fully intending to kill you prior to being interrupted by that phone call. Your girlfriend is smarter than I gave her credit."

"Leave… her… 'lone," Shawn rasped.

The smile on the man's face after hearing his battle-worn voice said a lot. It said that he secretly took pleasure in his pain; it also said that he was a certifiable nut-job. Just like Yang, the man belonged in a high-security mental institution. Preferably, they wouldn't be at the same location.

"You should be more worried about yourself, psychic," The Broker replied. "If your friends get any closer, it's you that's going to suffer. You're my ticket out of here."

The man slid chuckled as he slid the little window closed. Shawn dropped down onto his camp bed and slumped forwards, placing his head in his hands. He hated how he managed to miss getting a reading off of this guy earlier. He was so focussed on the case that he had forgotten to be mindful of whom he trusted. The edge he had in the past was disappearing.

You know, his father had said something about this when he first told him he was going to be a psychic detective. Ironically, it was right after questioning Shawn's edge just like Shawn was doing right now.

_Shawn, you want my advice,_ he had said. _Go out, get yourself a real job. Grow up. And in the meantime you might want to ask yourself who you're trusting in this case that maybe you shouldn't. Because obviously you're overlooking somebody._

He had overlooked somebody, alright.


	20. Under their noses

Juliet stepped out of Lassiter's Crown Vic and onto the footpath. Never before had she faced her house with as much trepidation as she was now. Police personnel were crowded around her front door and the yellow tape was unmissable. Her house was officially a crime scene.

She heard two doors slam behind her before she was joined by her partner and Gus. They both frowned at the house in a similar manner to herself.

"I can see Ewing but where's the rest of his team?" Gus asked.

"Since they were Shawn's night detail, the Chief sent them home to rest up," Juliet responded absently. "I highly doubt that they'd be getting any sleep though. The idea of their teammates having been murdered must be playing on their minds."

"Well, for one, my nose is definitely grateful for that."

"Why's that?"

"I'm sure that Steve guy had one too many after-dinner mints before coming down to the station," Gus scrunched up his nose at the memory. "He reeked of minty freshness. Though, not normally a bad thing, it is possible to overdo it as the super smeller can attest."

"Super smeller?" Lassiter looked confused.

"His nose," Juliet explained. Shawn had revealed this little fact to her a couple of weeks ago when he was filling in a contest form for a sniffer dog contest. She had laughed when she had seen Gus' name in the contestant box. Apparently, Shawn had been serious about entering his friend.

"You name your body parts?" Lassiter said disgustedly.

Gus frowned before glaring at Lassiter and stomping up to Juliet's front door, entering before the two detectives. Lassiter looked over at Juliet and gestured to the door, suggesting that they follow the consultant in. Juliet sighed and moved towards her house.

Just as they were about to walk through the door they were pushed aside by the pharmaceutical salesman that had just entered. He looked a little nauseous as he stumbled past them. Lassiter raised an eyebrow before holding up the crime scene tape for Juliet to duck under.

When they entered Juliet's living room, they finally understood why their queasy friend had left the room so suddenly. The two burly bodyguards had been shot directly in the face.

"Whoever shot them must have had a personal vendetta against these two men," Lassiter surmised. "It's the only way to explain why they were shot where they were. It might be a good idea to look into past cases that they were involved in."

Juliet looked away from her blood-stained couches. She didn't like the fact that this scene was in her own house. Thankfully, as she deliberately avoided the bodies, she noticed that everything else was just as she had left it. "There's no signs of struggle."

"Maybe they were taken unaware?"

"Or, maybe, they knew the shooter," a voice interrupted. It belonged to Gus. He looked towards the bodies and yelped before grabbing the door frame and hiding behind it.

Lassiter knelt down next to the bodies and poked around with the back of his ball-point pen as he thought carefully about what exactly all this new information meant to this investigation. He grimaced, "O'Hara, remember how you theorised that The Broker had access to our files?"

Juliet nodded, unsure of where this was going. "Yes, why?"

"The FBI also has access to all our files." He growled, "This whole time we were operating under the misguided assumption that The Broker was directly connected to our department! It makes sense now. That was how he's managed to one-up multiple police departments across the country."

Juliet's eyes widened before she managed to wrestle her expression into a hard line. She had just started to stalk out the room to give Ewing a piece of her mind when Lassiter's firm hand held her back.

"Not so quick, O'Hara," Lassiter said tersely. "As much as I am looking forward to it, we can interrogate Ewing and his team after we finish our investigation. There's still one more place we have to look at."

Juliet shut her eyes in an attempt to restrain her emotions. When she had somewhat calmed down, she allowed Lassiter to lead her to her bathroom where Shawn was thought to have disappeared from. Although, before they entered the room, she decided to hang back and briefly console a rather pale-looking Gus.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Badly," he replied. "You're handling this better than I am. At least you can contribute to the investigation; I'm just a waste of space."

At first Juliet had no clue what to say so she settled on patting him on the back awkwardly. "Just being here is encouraging me, Gus," she finally decided to say.

Gus sighed, "Thanks for trying, Juliet." He gave a small smile, "After you."

She shrugged and entered the bathroom. It was a mess in there: her towel rail had half come off the wall and there was toothpaste all over the floor. Small splotches of blood were scattered on the floor. At this point in time she wouldn't have been able to tell if it was Shawn's or the killer's blood. Either way, at least no serious blood loss seemed to have occurred during the scuffle.

"Why'd the killer take Spencer?" Lassie looked puzzled. "I thought he was trying to kill him?"

Juliet sighed. "I don't know." Despite all the evidence towards Shawn possibly being alright, it didn't offer her much consolation. There was still the possibility that something bad might have happened post-struggle. It was still too early to say.

"Looks like he tried to write something here," Lassie pointed to the edge of the mirror he was observing. "Unfortunately, it looks like the humidity in the room has caused it to drip. It might take us a while to decipher what it says." He frowned, "There is also the possibility that this was unintentionally done by Spencer as he was brushing his teeth."

Juliet moved forward to look at the mess. Despite what Lassiter said, Shawn wasn't as messy as he made him out to be. It was probably a message of sorts. In fact, the first smudge looked a little like an 'S'. If only the other smudges were as easy to make out.

She was broken out of he thoughts when she heard Guster call hesitantly from outside. "Is it safe to come in?"

Lassiter snorted at the man's extreme dislike for anything bloody or gruesome. "Yeah, its 'safe'."

Gus' head poked into the room before he slowly entered inch by inch. The consultant had an odd mixture of relief and concern showing on his face as he surveyed his surroundings. However, before he really began to look at the scene, he scrunched up his nose and buried it in his arm.

"Wow, that toothpaste is strong smelling!" he exclaimed.

"No, duh," Lassiter rolled his eyes.

"Wait," Gus ignored the Detective's snarky comment. He lifted his head from his arm and sniffed the air, "What the hell? I can't believe this! The guy who took Shawn was right under our noses all along - specifically, my nose."

"Guster, now is not the time for poorly conceived jokes. You better tell me what in the damn hell you're talking about before I turn you into a living pretzel."

"Those weren't after-dinner mints I was smelling earlier on Steve. It was this very same tooth-paste!"

As Juliet pondered this she caught a glimpse of the smudges on the mirror. She gasped, now that she looked at it, the smudges clearly read 'Steve'.


	21. Still a part of the feed

"Come on... come on... I need... to focus," Shawn intoned. He was rubbing his temples as he paced back and forth.

Pacing seemed to have a calming effect on Shawn. Three steps one way and three steps back. It would normally consist of a lot more steps in either direction but he had no choice because the room he was trapped in was so small.

Bang!

Shawn was startled from his intense thought by the door being thrown open violently. Not that his concentration amounted to anything – he had put together all the case details but still had not worked out a way to escape as of yet.

"You little—"

Shawn's panic drowned out the sound of the expletives coming out of the man's mouth and he advanced on him. He cringed away from the man and quickly looked around the room, trying to think of a way out of the situation he was in. For a brief second, his eyes met those of the other occupant of the small room.

'Go' he mouthed as soon as he realised The Broker's attention was wholly on him.

Unfortunately, the FBI agent noticed his lips moving, "What was that? I didn't hear you."

"O-obviously," Shawn said wryly with a roll of his eyes. "I can't… talk… properly."

Shawn stopped breathing as he felt the man stroke his neck with his hand. "That's right," The Broker said. The man frowned and raised his eyebrows.

Shawn reeled back as he was suddenly back-handed across the face, "W-what was… that for..?"

"For trying to distract me," The Broker replied.

Shawn's eyes widened and his heart dropped as he looked out the door at the retreating form of the old woman. He opened his mouth to plead for her safety when he was interrupted by the man's low voice.

"I'm not here to admire my handiwork," the FBI agent explained. "I'm in here for another reason entirely."

The clarification did nothing to calm Shawn's racing heart. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should feel relieved that Rosa managed to escape the confines of the room undetected but the proximity of The Broker seemed to negate his feeling of relief. Instead, it was replaced with a feeling of unrestrained anxiety.

"Your friends found your 'message'," The Broker sneered, not noticing the inner turmoil Shawn was experiencing. "Thank goodness I haven't been cut from Ewing's wire feed yet. I could've been caught unaware. They know now that I am the one behind all this."

Shawn cringed at the ramifications of what the man had just said. It didn't bode well for him. The only consolation he had was that he was currently a pawn in all of this – his life was guaranteed so long as he could still be used. He just needed to prove to the man that he shouldn't be hurt during the whole process.

"I'm sure… they guessed… before seeing… it."

The FBI agent frowned, "What makes you say that?"

Shawn raised a shaky hand to his head and closed his eyes, "I'm sensing … no signs of struggle… only two… rounds fired."

"Get on with it!" The Broker growled impatiently.

"I-I would… if I… could!" Shawn glared at the man. "Someone… most likely… Lassiter… would have connected… it with… someone… the guards knew. My message… probably… confirmed that."

Shawn huffed at the effort it took to speak more than a few words at a time. He studied the man's face to see if he could gauge what the man was thinking but his face remained impassive as he took in what Shawn was saying.

The Broker got up and was about to turn towards the door. Surely, the man would notice Rosa gone when he locked the door behind him. That's why Shawn decided to buy Rosa some more time – after all, she was an old lady; she could only move so fast.

"You're… not… as smart… as you think… you are," Shawn said. Out of all the things he could have said to distract the man, he just couldn't resist the jibe on the tip of his tongue.

Shawn cried out as The Broker tased him in the side. He fell to his knees and hugged his ribcage in an attempt to alleviate the pain. When he looked up, he could see the man watching him writhe in fascination. How had he not noticed that the FBI agent had a taser?

"I've revised my opinion on your speaking," the man said. "It's much more fun having you silent."

Shawn calmed down and managed to shuffle over to the wall. He shakily pushed himself up so he was sitting against the wall. The man smiled the whole time he was trying to do this; it was kind of creepy.

"You know what?" The Broker said as he stole a glance at the taser. "I think I have the perfect thing to shut you up."

Shawn paled as the man waved the taser in front of him. He closed his eyes for a second as the full weight of what he had just done made itself known to him.

"I think you're misunderstanding me," the FBI agent placed a hand underneath Shawn's chin and pushed it upwards. "The taser is merely a taste of what I have in mind for you."

The man removed his hand and Shawn's head immediately fell back down to where it was originally. He was so physically exhausted he couldn't even hold his head up for a long time.

Shawn opened his eyes and blinked a little at how blurry his vision had become. He watched as the blob he identified as The Broker backed away from him and began to move towards the door. Unfortunately, the man seemed to stop and realise that something was wrong – Rosa was missing.

"What the hell! Where'd that old hag go?" The man yelled. He turned to Shawn and kicked him in the side, "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

Shawn slid down the wall and curled into a ball almost simultaneously. He yelped as he was kicked in the same spot numerous times; making the spot more sensitive to the pain. With The Broker as angry as he was, Shawn was very grateful when he slipped out of consciousness.

He knew his logic resembled that of a five-year-old when he tried to comfort himself with the whole 'what you can't see, can't hurt you' reasoning but he couldn't bring himself to care.


End file.
